STRANGE  STORIES 

•  OF  THE  - 

GREAT  RIVER 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


STRANGE    STORIES 
OF   THE    GREAT    RIVER 


u)atrj[oocler 


[See  page  61 
HE   HAD   THE   UNCANNY   FEELING   OF    BEING   WATCHED 


STRANGE    STORIES 

OF  THE 

GREAT    RIVER 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A   BOY  EXPLORER 

BY 
JOHNSTON  GROSVENOR 

ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  y  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Copyright.  1918,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published  May.  1918 


CONTENTS 


PACE 

FOREWORD ix 

aj    I.        A  PAPER  FLEET i 

ui     II.      WHITE  CALUMET 17 

CO 

^     III.     Six  Sioux 32 

<     IV.     HUNTERS  ALL 53 

V.  MANY  MOUTHS 68 

VI.  ON  THE  ROCK 82 

VII.  JOLLY  ROGER 99 

VIII.  BROKEN  POTS 118 

IX.  THE  SLAVE  SHIP 136 

§2       X.       PRETTY  PRINCESS 152 

XI.  STAGS  OF  TWELVE 166 

XII.  BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 179 

O                AFTERWORD 193 


461831 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

HE  HAD  THE  UNCANNY  FEELING  OF  BEING  WATCHED  .  Frontispiece 

THE  MEN  WENT  HEADLONG  INTO  THE  RAPIDS    .    .  Pacing  p.  28 
ANTHONY  FLUNG  AGAINST  HIM  WITH  ALL  THE  FORCE 

OF  DESPERATION '  114 

THE  Two  MEN  CLUNG  DESPERATELY  TO  THE  BRANCHES 
THEY  HAPPENED  TO  BE  ON  AND  WENT  DOWN- 
STREAM WITH  IT  .  .  .  .  "  1 88 


FOREWORD 

THERE  is  a  river  so  long  and  wide  that  it  is 
the  pride  of  our  continent;  a  very  Father 
of  Waters. 

It  draws  many  other  streams  into  its  basin 
and  forms  the  largest  drainage  system  in  the 
world. 

In  early  days  this  Great  River  was  almost 
unknown.  A  few  savages  had  paddled  their 
skiffs  upon  it.  Curious  tales  were  told  about  it. 
Monsters  guarded  it.  Sorcerers  lived  in  its 
caverns.  Mystic  creatures  both  good  and  bad 
swam  through  its  rapids. 

After  the  New  World  was  discovered  some 
daring  French  explorers  longing  for  adventure 
traveled  into  those  wilds  to  see  if  they  could  find 
the  hidden  waterway  of  Indian  romance. 

One  of  them,  a  bold  trader  of  Canada,  in  his 
scarlet  coat  and  three-cornered  hat,  ventured 
into  the  farthest-away  channels.  Only  one  of 
his  companions,  a  boy,  came  back  with  him  to 
present  the  map  he  drew  of  the  southern  reaches 
of  the  mighty  stream, 


FOREWORD 

Next,  a  gray-frocked  Belgian  friar,  sandaled 
and  shaven  of  crown,  set  down  on  parchment  the 
northern  trend  of  the  same  river  His  goose  quill 
wrote  the  name  of  his  young  oarsman  who  sang 
to  appease  their  Indian  captors  as  white  men 
and  red  rode  the  waves  together. 

A  nobleman  of  France  in  doublet  and  hose 
journeyed  farther  than  all  others  into  the  wilder- 
ness of  bayous  and  tributaries  and  wrote  his 
tragic  history  in  the  foundations  of  the  fortresses 
which  he  built  and  in  the  heart  of  a  stripling 
who  served  him. 

Wearing  the  armor  of  a  knight  and  command- 
ing a  fleet  of  brigantines,  another  Canadian 
adventurer,  half  gentleman  and  half  buccaneer, 
with  a  motley  Old  World  crew — one  of  them  a 
whistler — made  a  gallant  defense  of  the  river's 
mouth  against  the  pirates  of  the  Spanish  Main. 

And  a  wise  young  governor  in  robes  and  wig 
of  state,  whose  favorite  companion  was  a  fiddler 
of  famous  name  and  title — so  says  a  quaint  old 
letter  or  two — began  the  battles  which  de- 
termined the  reign  of  law  and  order  upon  the 
Mississippi. 

All  of  these  soldiers  of  fortune  and  their 
scribes,  Joliet  and  Marquette,  Accau  and  Henne- 
pin,  La  Salle  and  Tonty,  Iberville  and  Bienville, 
made  notes  of  their  voyages  to  please  the  king 
who  sent  them  out. 

From  their  records  written  in  French  long  ago, 


FOREWORD 

and  almost  forgotten  are  taken  these  stories  of 
the  boy  who  shared  in  so  many  of  their  dangers 
and  successes. 

The  French  discovered  most  of  the  Mississippi. 
They  were  not  the  very  first  to  see  it,  but  they 
explored  it,  colonized  it,  and  began  its  prosperity. 

The  United  States  has  inherited  the  work  of 
their  genius. 

Just  as  a  nation  lives  at  its  noblest  when  it 
has  the  friendship  and  help  of  other  countries, 
so  a  boy  can  better  tell  what  to  do  with  his  own 
life  when  he  hears  the  things  that  other  lads 
have  done.  He  will  understand  the  present 
time  after  he  has  read  the  history  of  the  past. 

So  with  his  plumed  cap  and  his  sword,  with  his 
whistle,  his  song  and  his  fiddle,  the  French  boy, 
Anthony  Auguelle,  the  Picard  du  Gay,  opens  the 
brass  lock  of  an  ancient  wooden-backed  book, 
where  he  has  been  hidden,  and  walks  out  gaily 
to  tell  to-day's  folks  of  the  strange  part  he  took 
in  deciding  the  fate  of  the  Great  River  and  in 
the  making  of  America. 

J.G. 

INDIANA,  1918. 


STRANGE    STORIES 
OF   THE   GREAT    RIVER 


i 

•  t 

A   PAPER   FLEET 

Searching  for  the  Father  of  Waters  with  the  Indians'  Friend,  Jacques 
Marquette — A  Voyage  into  the  Unknown 

A  BOY  was  trying  to  learn  a  tune.  He  had 
an  upper  row  of  white,  even  teeth  which 
showed  attractively  when  he  sang,  so  that  he 
appeared  quite  like  a  cherub.  But  his  two  front 
lower  teeth  were  crooked,  overlapping  each 
other  irregularly,  and  leaving  spaces  through 
which  he  could  whistle  with  many  variations. 

When  he  smiled  these  teeth  gave  him  an 
impish  expression.  If  he  followed  the  smile 
with  laughter,  the  dimples  in  his  chin  so  em- 
phasized the  naughty  look,  that  he  seemed  ca- 
pable of  any  kind  of  mischief. 

The  quaint  rhythm  of  the  barbaric  chant  was 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

hard  to  follow.  He  had  to  bob  his  curly  head, 
shuffle  his  feet,  and  beat  out  the  time  with  his 
hands  to  separate  this  new  air  from  the  medley 
of  sounds  about  him. 

"Flip,  flop,"  went  the  white  wings  of  gulls  in 
the  blue  Canadian  sky. 

"Caw,  caw,"  scolded  numerous  crows  in  the 
green  tops  of  pines. 

"Quack,  quack,"  cried  the  ducks  feeding 
among  the  sedges  on  the  shore. 

Waters,  spreading  to  the  horizon  on  three 
sides  of  the  peninsula  where  he  stood,  were  as 
blue  as  the  sky.  Their  waves,  hurrying  before 
a  warm  wind,  came  leaping  on  the  golden  sands 
with  a  "  Siss,  siss,  s-w-i-s-h"  of  silver  froth. 

Gray  sand-plovers  ran  back  and  forth  over  the 
beaches,  "Pipe,  pipe,  piping,"  continually.  In 
the  newly  made  brown  garden  plots,  a  flock  of 
blackbirds,  "Chat,  chat,  chattered."  Speckled 
meadow-larks  rose  from  among  the  dandelions 
of  the  sparse  grass  with  full-throated  trills. 

As  a  chorus  background  for  these  singers,  and 
not  in  the  least  interfering  with  them,  were  three 
hundred  Indians  chanting  with  all  their  lung 
power. 

The  boy  stood  in  a  gateway  of  the  log  stockade 
which  inclosed  the  grounds  of  the  bark-shingled 
mission-house  of  Saint  Ignatius.  On  the  shore 
was  a  hamlet  of  French  traders  buzzing  like  a 
hive  of  bees.  Near  it  a  huddle  of  wigwams  set 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

up  by  some  visiting  Ottawa  savages  was  as  full 
of  clamor  as  a  magpie  family.  Biggest  and 
loudest  of  all  boomed  a  Huron  Indian  village 
within  its  bark  cabins  behind  its  fortifications  of 
picket  fence. 

On  this  commotion,  which  was  characteristic 
of  almost  every  French  settlement  in  the  New 
World  at  that  time,  shone  the  early  morning  sun 
of  a  bright  spring  day — an  eventful  and  impor- 
tant day. 

Traders  and  trappers  and  hunters  were  stop- 
ping here.  Some  were  on  their  voyage  up  the 
big  waterways  to  Lake  Superior,  others  on  the 
trip  down  toward  Lake  Erie,  Niagara,  and  the 
settlements  on  the  Saint  Lawrence.  For  this 
mission  on  the  peninsula  of  Mackinaw  stood 
where  three  of  the  Great  Lakes  came  together 
and  attracted  travelers,  because  it  was  such  a 
central  and  good  bartering  point. 

The  half -civilized,  half-Christianized  Hurons, 
who  loved  trade,  had  taken  this  peninsula,  put  a 
stockade  round  their  village,  and,  like  good 
citizens,  came  regularly  to  mass  at  the  mission 
each  morning,  before  commencing  their  daily 
business  of  piling  up  wealth  in  the  white  man's 
fashion. 

"The  Indians  are  colored  like  a  rainbow,"  the 
boy  noticed.  "Imagine  a  rainbow  singing!" 
Through  his  pursed  lips  he  was  still  struggling 
with  that  rainbow's  tune. 

3 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Since  this  was  to  be  a  very  special  festal  day, 
the  Indians  wished  to  do  honor  to  it.  "Behold 
us  garbed  in  every  one  of  the  seven  colors  oft 
repeated!"  their  beads  and  feathers,  paints  and 
blankets  of  the  gayest  seemed  to  shriek. 

After  the  long,  dark,  cold  winter,  the  sunshine 
and  the  breeze  stirred  them  pleasantly.  The  new 
season  warmed  the  yeast  of  action  in  their  veins. 
They  felt  the  ancient  instincts  of  their  race 
stirring  in  response  to  the  call  of  the  rising  year. 
This  jolly  old  world  is  full  of  games  and  feasts. 
All  rough  and  primitive  sports  have  had  their 
beginnings  in  just  such  days  as  this  sparkling 
morning  at  Mackinaw. 

Before  the  old  chief  of  the  tribe  could  preen 
himself  to  start  the  "0-o-o-oh,  e-e-e-eh,  ou-ou- 
ou-ouh"  of  the  sunrise  hymn  which  the  priest 
of  the  mission  had  taught  him  to  lead  his  braves 
in  singing,  an  exuberant  young  Ottawa  buck  had 
followed  his  own  wayward  impulse  and  had 
burst  into  the  wildest  and  most  vigorous  verse 
he  knew. 

Sacrilege!  That  verse  was  neither  hymn  nor 
anthem.  It  was  a  favorite  scalp-song  of  his  more 
savage  cousins,  the  Chippewas. 

In  a  moment  other  youths  were  humming  it. 
They  answered  to  its  suggestion  as  the  pines 
answered  to  the  wind.  New  voices  joined  in  at 
every  repetition  of  its  cadence.  Its  strains  went 
to  their  heads  and  feet  like  fire-water.  One  by 

4 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

one,  as  they  took  up  the  song,  they  felt  its 
movement  and  they  began  to  swing  into  the 
measures  of  a  dance.  They  stepped  out  its 
time  with  their  toes  turned  in. 

The  boy  tried  again  to  sing  it.  Then  he 
managed  to  whistle  it. 

"  It  is  an  odd  sort  of  music,  but  I  love  it.  This 
concert  suits  the  weather  better  than  one  of  our 
doleful,  slow,  wet-blanket  hymns,"  he  thought, 
as  he,  too,  began  to  sway  back  and  forth.  "I 
can't  understand  the  words.  But  by  the  way 
that  buck  clutches  at  his  cherished  top-knot  to 
emphasize  the  ditty,  it  must  be  some  sort  of  a 
scalp-song  he  is  singing." 

Distant  Hurons  heard  the  first  notes,  saw  the 
movements  of  the  dancers,  and  came  loping  up, 
ready  to  fall  into  the  vortex  of  play. 

"Never,  never,  did  I  hear  anything  of  the 
kind  before,"  the  boy  breathed  hurriedly,  en- 
chanted by  the  novelty  of  the  hour.  "Prick  up, 
my  ears,  prick  up!"  He  still  found  the  tune 
difficult. 

Indian  musical  intervals  are  a  little  different 
from  the  intervals  in  the  white  man's  con- 
ventional scale.  It  takes  a  quick  ear  to  catch 
them.  A  white  man  needs  to  be  young  and 
adroit  if  he  hopes  to  imitate  a  savage  in  a  native 
dancing  song. 

A  new  note  was  added  to  the  uproar  as  a  gentle 
voice  said,  "Anthony,"  and  an  appealing  hand 
2  5 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

was  laid  on  the  boy's  sleeve.  A  black-gowned 
priest  had  stepped  to  his  side.  "Oh,  Anthony, 
help  me!  My  poor  children  do  not  know  how 
they  profane  the  church  with  that  murderous 
song  at  its  very  door."  The  priest  could  under- 
stand the  words  of  the  scalp -song  and  he  was 
filled  with  anxiety.  "Quick!  Think!  What 
hymn  can  we  adapt  to  that  tune — that  heathen 
tune?  I  cannot  follow  it  as  you  are  doing. 
What  hymn  can  you  sing  to  those  measures? 
What  hymn  whose  words  they  know?  They 
must  be  diverted  from  scalping  thoughts.  Help 
me!"  and  the  face  of  the  priest,  a  Jesuit,  young, 
handsome,  pale  with  zeal,  was  bent  upon  his 
cavorting  Indians  in  deep  concern. 

The  lad,  Anthony,  called  thus  to  his  duty  as 
choir-boy,  answered  almost  at  once:  "Yes,  Pere 
Marquette,  I  will.  Perhaps  —  perhaps  —  the 
Jubilate  might  do." 

"Try  it,"  begged  the  priest. 

"Begin  now,"  insisted  a  man  who  was  the 
Jesuit's  companion.  He  also  was  young,  not 
more  than  thirty,  and  plainly  a  gentleman.  He 
had  the  air  of  a  soldier.  That  he  was  in  full 
sympathy  with  the  priest  could  be  seen  in  the 
protecting  stand  he  took  beside  the  Pere  Mar- 
quette as  though  to  make  his  vigorous  body  a 
shield  for  his  slighter  friend  in  case  of  trouble 
with  the  excited  savages. 

' '  Begin,  Tony, ' '  he  repeated,  sharply.    ' '  Scalp- 

6 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

songs  started  in  play  may  end  in  deadly  earnest. 
A  brutal  dance  can  lead  them  back  to  ferocious 
rites  and  tangle  us  all  in  a  massacre." 

"Yes,  Sieur  Joliet,"  and  Anthony,  hastily 
gathering  up  the  skirts  of  his  service  gown,  ran 
forward,  jumped  to  the  nearest  stump-top,  and 
threw  out  his  arms  in  the  form  of  the  cross. 
The  roots  of  his  curls  stirred  oddly.  He  fancied 
he  could  feel  them  standing  up.  Yet  he  faced 
the  mob  with  keen  delight.  He  wanted  to  be  in 
the  thick  of  things. 

With  what  beating  hearts  under  their  calm 
appearance  at  the  post  of  duty  the  priest  and  the 
soldier  of  fortune  watched  the  boy  it  would  be 
hard  to  tell.  Each  was  thinking:  " To-day  we 
begin  the  big  work  of  our  lives.  Is  our  fortune 
to  be  lost  for  a  song?" 

Then  a  long  melodious  note,  keyed  high  and 
sharp,  struck  like  a  sword  across  the  confusion  of 
noise  and  motion  and  color.  Its  very  fineness 
cut  its  way.  One  exquisite  boyish  soprano  rose 
above  dozens  of  rough  barytones  and  coarse 
basses. 

The  Indians  threw  up  their  heads  at  that 
clarion  call. 

For  many  weeks,  under  the  good  priest's 
guidance,  the  boy  had  tutored  them  in  Church 
music.  They  had  learned  to  listen  for  his  key- 
note and  to  follow  his  instructions.  His  yellow 
pate,  his  wide  gray  eyes,  his  young  grace  and 

7 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

confidence,  his  white  angelic  gown,  all  so  different 
from  their  own  swarthy  gorgeousness,  arrested 
their  attention  as  nothing  else  could  do.  For  a 
surprised  and  shuffling  moment  their  custom  of 
harkening  to  him  struggled  with  their  instinct 
for  a  spring  orgy. 

Sweet  and  clear — as  compelling  as  a  bugle 
summons — that  long  note  came  again. 

They  hesitated  in  the  song.  They  stumbled 
in  the  dance.  Confusion  threw  them  out  of 
tune  and  out  of  time.  Then  in  the  same  key  his 
voice  took  up  the  scalp-song.  In  an  obbligato  of 
purest  quality  he  intoned  each  note.  Their 
faltering  and  irresolution  had  broken  their 
chorus.  Their  music  dwindled  away.  He  was 
left  singing  almost  alone. 

By  surprising  them  he  had  overborne  them. 

He  repeated  the  strain.  Artfully  he  retarded 
it.  He  shaped  his  syllables  into  words.  On  their 
bewildered  ears  fell  the  prehistoric  strains  ab- 
solutely true  and  charming.  But  in  perfect 
measures,  familiar  and  desirable,  came  the 
Huron  phrases  which  he  sang  each  morning  with 
them.  He  was  fitting  the  music  of  the  scalp- 
song  to  a  Huron  translation  of  a  Catholic  hymn. 
It  was  the  Jubilate,  "Oh,  be  joyful  in  the  Lord, 
all  ye  lands!" 

Their  dancing  feet,  all  ready  for  any  motion, 
gradually  fell  into  the  time  which  his  nodding 
head  and  his  ringing  tones  marked  for  them — 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

the  slower  measures  of  the  Church.  And  behold, 
they  were  walking,  not  dancing.  The  words  of 
every  day  came  back  readily  to  their  lips  as  he 
pronounced  them  distinctly  and  with  reverence, 
"Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness!" 

Paganism  dropped  into  their  souls  and  hid 
away.  The  wild  children  of  the  waters  and  of 
the  forests  began  to  move  sedately  toward  the 
mission,  singing  to  native  music  the  canticle 
they  should  rightly  be  using  at  that  hour, 
"And  come  before  His  Presence  with  a  song!" 

All  Indians  love  noise.  They  have  a  childish 
joy  in  racket.  Music  good  or  bad  catches  their 
fancy.  A  rollicking  tune  sometimes  controls 
them  when  prayers  fall  useless.  Any  sort  of  a 
singer  finds  favor  with  a  missionary.  The 
careless  mocking-bird  in  Anthony's  throat  was 
the  Pere  Marquette's  chief  aid,  as  he  struggled 
out  of  one  danger  into  another  in  going  from 
fort  to  fort. 

Anthony  Auguelle  was  a  waif  out  of  France, 
gay  and  sunny  as  his  own  province  of  Picardy, 
a  runaway,  a  stowaway,  an  emigrant;  one  small 
item  in  the  unlisted  riffraff  tumbling  over  the 
side  of  some  square-rigged  hulk  onto  the  shores 
of  the  New  World.  He  had  been  in  turn  the 
companion  of  pirates  and  priests,  of  scullions 
and  captains. 

When  his  fighting  spirit  and  his  doubled  fists 
could  not  make  him  a  place,  his  voice  could  win 

9 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

him  bread.  "Sing  for  your  supper,  Tony,"  was 
the  command  which  any  roustabout  of  a  port 
might  give  him.  Because  of  the  joyousness  of 
his  chantey  in  response,  he  had  cuddled  warm 
in  the  shipping  many  a  night  between  Havre 
and  Quebec,  and  in  the  canoes  between  Quebec 
and  Mackinaw,  when  others  shivered  neglected. 
The  Picard  du  Gay  they  called  him. 

"To  save  his  soul  I  will  befriend  the  boy," 
was  the  priest's  motive  in  attaching  him  to  this 
expedition  where  there  was  much  danger  from 
savages.  "To  interest  the  Indians  he  ought  to 
go  with  us,"  was  the  trader's  idea. 

The  Tionnontateronnous  Indians,  whose  name 
even  the  patient  and  ceremonious  Jesuits  felt 
obliged  to  shorten  to  Huron  Indians  for  daily 
use,  lived  at  Michilimakinac — dubbed  Mackinaw 
— near  the  lake  which  was  finally  called  Michigan 
instead  of  by  its  right  name  of  Michihiganing. 
The  Outaouasinagaux  when  hurried  became 
Ottawas. 

The  Hurons  were  clever  and  had  made  friends 
with  the  French  from  the  time  of  the  founding 
of  Quebec,  foreseeing  that  peace,  prosperity,  and 
a  helpful  religion  would  come  to  them  through 
the  ministry  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  coureurs  de  bois,  those  French 
fur  hunters  and  traders  of  the  forests,  who  be- 
friended the  society's  missionaries. 

"We   must   have   patience   with   untutored 

10 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

minds,"  the  priest  had  said  in  days  past,  when, 
through  all  the  changes  made  by  Indian  wars 
and  the  shifting  of  fishing-places  and  hunting- 
grounds,  he  had  followed  these  Indians.  "You 
traders  in  my  wake  must  treat  the  natives 
justly." 

So  when,  at  the  feast  of  the  Virgin  in  the 
previous  autumn,  there  had  come  to  this  settle- 
ment that  soldier  and  explorer,  that  prince  of 
traders,  the  Sieur  Joliet,  with  papers  from 
Frontenac,  the  governor  of  Canada,  which 
commissioned  him  to  take  their  priest,  the  Pe"re 
Marquette,  and  to  go  upon  a  voyage  in  search 
of  a  Great  River — that  water  Messipi — of 
which  some  Indians  had  heard,  but  which  no 
white  man  had  yet  seen,  the  Pe*re  Marquette's 
grateful  Hurons  were  all  alert  to  help  the 
adventurous  plan. 

"What  is  good  for  priests  and  traders  is  good 
for  us;  it  gets  us  beads  and  iron  knives." 

To  Mackinaw,  then,  during  the  winter,  was 
brought  every  fact  and  fancy  the  savages  could 
find  out  about  the  Great  Water. 

To  these  bartering  Indians  new  waterways 
discovered  meant  new  fur  lands  opened.  New 
lands  opened  meant  more  traders  coming.  More 
traders  coming  meant  more  wealth  for  the 
Hurons,  just  as  it  did  for  their  ruler,  His  Maj- 
esty the  King,  Louis  XIV  of  France. 

ii 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

"  In  the  matter  of  greed,"  thought  the  naughty 
Anthony,  "the  frowsy  savage  in  his  blanket  and 
the  splendid  king  upon  his  throne  are  twins  at 
heart."  But  in  his  secret  mind  he  told  himself: 
"When  that  brave  gentleman,  the  Sieur  Joliet, 
desires  to  go  exploring  for  the  glory  of  achieve- 
ment, and  when  that  pious  aristocrat,  the  Pere 
Marquette,  accompanies  him  for  the  sake  of  the 
Church — ah,  that  is  quite  another  matter.  I 
make  my  bow  to  them." 

Said  Louis  Joliet  to  Jacques  Marquette:  "Our 
Canadian  governor  has  learned  the  importance 
of  finding  and  taking  possession  of  that  mighty 
river  which  the  western  natives  say  runs  from 
the  northern  lakes  to  the  southern  seas.  Be- 
cause I  am  Canadian  born  and  educated  and 
know  many  Indian  languages  and  customs  and 
the  demands  of  various  climates,  I  am  chosen 
for  the  venture.  I  am  glad  that  my  orders  are 
for  you  to  make  the  voyage  with  me.  There  are 
gold-mines,  jewels,  and  riches  untold  upon  that 
river  Messipi." 

Said  Jacques  Marquette  to  Louis  Joliet: 
"There  are  people  upon  that  Great  Water  who 
have  never  heard  of  our  religion.  I  am  en- 
raptured at  the  good  news  of  my  selection  for 
the  voyage.  It  gives  me  happiness  to  expose  my 
life  for  the  salvation  of  all  these  nations." 

"If  we  find  the  river  which  will  give  this  land 
a  water  path  to  the  open  seas  and  a  way  to  the 

12 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

ports  of  the  earth,  we  will  hold  the  destinies  of 
empires  in  our  hands.  What  is  danger  but  the 
zest  to  make  such  ventures  the  greatest  delight? 
We  will  add  to  the  sum  of  human  happiness  and 
to  the  wealth  of  mankind,"  said  the  Sieur  Joliet. 
And  his  friend  replied,  "I  will  count  the  whole 
world  well  lost  if  I  save  some  heathen  souls." 

The  time  had  come  for  setting  out. 

The  enterprise  was  hazardous,  but  all  care  had 
been  used  in  getting  ready.  And  now,  on  the 
I7th  of  May,  1673,  the  whole  concourse  of 
Hurons,  Ottawas,  traders,  and  trappers  trailed 
to  the  beach  to  see  the  start. 

There  stood  the  Indian  canoes  of  the  kind 
that  made  possible  the  early  exploration  of  the 
New  World.  The  savages,  commanded  by  Sieur 
Joliet,  blessed  by  Pdre  Marquette,  cajoled  by 
Anthony,  had  made  all  new  ones  of  birch  bark- 
that  Birch  papyracea,  paper  birch — which  is  so 
easy  to  build,  so  fast  to  paddle,  so  light  to 
carry. 

In  them  this  voyage  was  to  be  made. 

Anthony  was  packing  the  stores.  "Here  is 
maize  in  plenty;  there  is  jerked  venison." 

Two  articles!  Indian  corn  and  dried  meat! 
This  was  the  whole  stock  of  food  for  men  who 
were  to  go  on  a  precarious  journey  of  unknown 
length.  There  were  some  treasures  of  beads  and 
trinkets  and  gay  cloth;  much  ammunition  for 
the  guns  was  in  the  load. 

13 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Besides  these  articles  each  canoe  was  built  to 
carry  three  full-grown  men.  There  were  two 
canoes. 

Into  the  first  one  stepped  the  Sieur  Joliet  and 
a  couple  of  coureurs  de  bois.  The  second  canoe 
received  one  coureur  de  bois,  one  undersized 
half-breed  interpreter,  the  slender  Pere  Mar- 
quette  and  his  choir  boy,  Anthony.  Seven  men 
in  all. 

Seven  men  in  all!  For  one  of  the  biggest 
ventures  of  any  age! 

Seven  men  in  all!  For  one  of  the  greatest 
achievements  in  the  world! 

Strange  that  they  should  try  it!  Stranger  still 
if  they  should  win! 

Each  man  had  a  gun  and  a  paddle  and  the 
clothes  upon  his  back.  His  main  equipment  was 
his  strength  of  purpose,  his  faith  in  himself. 
The  commander  of  the  expedition  carried  a 
sword.  The  priest  bore  a  tiny  traveling-altar. 

They  took  up  their  paddles  and  set  their 
prows  toward  the  lake. 

The  lively  bucks  on  shore  again  began  the 
old,  old  chant.  They  used  the  words  of  the 
Jubilate.  That  meant  they  were  promising  to 
be  good  children.  The  Hurons  could  be  trusted 
to  keep  the  fort  in  peace. 

Oh,  tiny  fleet  of  birch  bark!  Oh,  little  band 
of  explorers  in  paper  craft!  As  they  disap- 
peared over  the  horizon  in  a  nimbus  of  gold, 

14 


A   PAPER    FLEET 

how  could  the  loyal  band  of  natives  who  watched 
the  departure  understand  the  high  hopes  of 
those  brave  French  hearts?  Or  dream  that  the 
voyagers  were  trying  to  find  the  longest  river 
system  in  the  world?  Or  that  out  of  their 
adventures  should  grow  such  interest  and  in- 
vestigation and  settlement  as  to  make  the 
valley  of  the  Great  River  the  happy  home 
to-day  of  fifty  million  Americans? 

They  went  through  the  Mackinaw  Straits, 
across  Lake  Michigan,  into  Green  Bay,  and  up 
the  Fox  River  to  its  source;  then  by  portage  into 
the  headwaters  of  a  river  which  they  spelled 
Mescousing  but  which  they  pronounced  much 
like  Wisconsin.  They  visited  the  wild-rice 
people — Oumalouminik,  and  the  fire-folk — 
Aweatsewaenrrhonous,  and  gained  more  news 
of  the  West. 

Many  a  school-boy  of  to-day,  who  has  made 
himself  a  canoe  in  his  manual-training  class, 
knows  that  he  can  set  it  afloat  in  these  same 
rivers  and  in  a  wet  season  follow  Anthony's 
route  along  a  water  path  as  old  as  the  first 
Indian — perhaps  older. 

As  they  drove  along  there  was  constant  danger 
from  the  wilds.  There  was  heavy  toil  at  the 
paddles.  But  there  was  also  the  daily  excite- 
ment of  a  chase  for  game  and  the  ever  fresh 
pleasure  of  country  luxuriant  and  sunny  un- 
folding before  them. 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

They  went  far  past  all  regions  which  the 
savages  had  described. 

In  fine  June  weather  they  came  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Wisconsin.  There  they  saw  what  northern 
white  men  had  never  seen  before — the  grand  old 
Father  of  Waters  rolling  past! 

They  took  a  stand  upon  the  shore  at  42°  30'. 
The  leather-clad  coureurs  de  bois,  happy  and 
careless  and  hairy,  their  locks  hanging  down 
their  backs,  their  beards  covering  their  chests, 
their  forearms  and  knees  all  overgrown  like 
forest  fauns,  helped  the  black-gowned  priest  to 
make  a  huge  rustic  cross.  The  clouted  half- 
breed  dug  a  hole  to  plant  it  in. 

Anthony,  in  buff  jerkin,  buckled  shoes,  and 
long  hose,  grew  serious  as  he  held  the  instru- 
ments of  observation  while  the  Sieur  Joliet  made 
the  official  notes  and  arranged  upon  the  cross 
the  lilies  of  France,  the  emblem  of  the  Bourbons. 

Then  the  Sieur  Joliet  removed  his  cocked 
hat.  With  the  breeze  stirring  his  handsome 
locks  and  his  jaunty  mustache,  the  sun  glinting 
through  the  gold  and  silver  embroideries  of  his 
skirted  coat  and  on  the  soft  polished  leather  of 
his  cavalier  boots,  he  drew  his  sword. 

In  the  name  of  the  king  this  picturesque  group 
took  possession  of  the  Great  River.  This  was  the 
real  beginning  of  progressive  history  of  the  fa- 
mous stream  so  full  of  stories.  It  was  a  princely 
gift  to  France — a  priceless  boon  to  the  world. 

16 


II 


WHITE   CALUMET 

Carrying  a  Peace  Pipe  among  Savages  for  the  Commandant,  Louis 
Joliet — Lost  in  the  Rapids 

THE  rushes  at  the  shore-line  were  broken  and 
bent.  Anthony,  on  watch,  glanced  across 
the  prow  of  his  canoe  and  saw  on  the  low  ground 
the  prints  of  human  feet !  Marks  of  bare  toes  in 
the  mud! 

No  need  to  signal,  " Look  out!"  His  electrical 
pause  had  run  like  wireless  through  both  canoes. 
All  fingers  pointed  to  the  same  spot. 

"Men!    Savage  men!" 

Now  this  thing  happened  many,  many  years 
before  the  days  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  That  man 
Friday  with  the  large  historic  feet  was  not  yet 
born.  This  surprise  was  all  the  Frenchmen's 
own. 

After  coming  for  hundreds  of  miles  in  primeval 
loneliness  and  spending  weeks  without  seeing  a 
human  face,  these  tracks  filled  the  explorers 
with  curiosity  and  with  caution.  They  noted 

17 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

the  traces  with  swift  decision.     All  wanted  to 
land  and  investigate. 

"I  must  speak  my  message  to  every  nation," 
said  the  priest,  picking  up  his  tiny  altar. 

"There  is  a  path,  well  beaten,  leading  inland," 
the  Sieur  Joliet  pointed  out  as  he  loaded  himself 
with  trinkets.  "We  two  will  go  ahead  and  make 
friends.  Stay  offshore  on  guard,  you  others,  until 
we  send  for  you,"  and  both  leaders  disappeared 
through  the  long  grass  of  the  rolling  meadow. 

After  what  seemed  a  wait  of  many  hours,  the 
impatient  watchers  saw  upon  the  path  the  figure 
of  an  Indian  youth  running  toward  them.  He 
stopped  suddenly  with  hand  outstretched  when 
he  neared  the  water's  edge. 

The  interpreter  gave  him  greeting  in  Algon- 
quin, that  common  tongue  of  midwestern  na- 
tives, "How  welcome  are  the  feet  of  the  messen- 
ger who  comes  in  friendship!" 

The  answer  was  in  a  boyish  treble,  a  trifle 
breathless,  in  the  language  of  the  Illinois,  a  form 
of  the  Algonquin.  The  sentences  were  clear  and 
so  slowly  spoken  that  in  spite  of  their  astonish- 
ment at  the  age  of  the  runner  they  understood 
him.  "How  beautiful,  O  Frenchmen,  is  the 
sun  when  thou  cometh  to  visit  us!  Our  town 
awaits  thee!  Thou  shalt  enter  our  cabins  in 
peace!"  Having  made  the  speech  taught  him, 
he  held  out  a  piece  of  white  paper  as  a  token  of 
good  faith. 

18 


WHITE  CALUMET 

So  the  explorers  paddled  in  and  gazed  at  the 
youth  with  interest.  He  was  not  as  tall  as 
Anthony,  nor  so  heavy.  He  was  straighter  and 
more  supple  than  any  white  boy  could  ever  be. 
His  head,  tufted  with  a  chieftain's  scalp-lock,  was 
set  arrogantly  on  his  slim  round  neck.  No 
traveler,  however  observing,  could  have  de- 
scribed his  clothes.  He  hadn't  any! 

His  hair  and  eyes  were  black;  his  teeth  were 
very  white  by  contrast ;  his  features  were  straight 
and  delicate. 

On  his  left  wrist,  which  he  placed  against  his 
heart  to  conceal,  with  Indian  instinct,  even  so 
natural  a  function  as  its  rapid  beating  from 
his  hurrying,  he  held  an  iridescent  passenger- 
pigeon. 

A  piece  of  paper  in  an  Indian  country  was  a 
guarantee  of  a  white  man's  summons.  They  fol- 
lowed it  with  confidence.  Anthony  began  imme- 
diately, "  My  name's  Tony.  What  is  yours?" 

The  little  Indian  threw  back  his  head  in  the 
haughtiest  of  gestures,  "He  who  speaks  is  a 
slave.  He  is  called  the  Winged  One,  a  son  of  the 
greatest  sachem  of  the  Southwest  tribes.  By 
his  captors — lean  dogs  of  Illinois — he  has  been 
given  to  the  Black-gowned  One  and  to  the  white 
man  with  beads  who  is  master  of  the  Black- 
gown." 

To  Anthony's  puzzled  look  the  interpreter  re- 
plied: "Some  Indian  tribes  sell  or  give  as  pres- 

19 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

ents  the  captives  they  take  in  conquest.  They 
have  traded  him  to  Sieur  Joliet  for  beads." 

So  swiftly  had  the  Winged  One  come  to  them 
that  they  had  gone  some  distance  on  the  path 
before  they  began  to  meet  the  groups  of  savages 
who  had  plainly  started  from  the  village  when 
he  did  and  had  been  outdistanced.  They  were 
strung  out  all  over  the  prairie  according  to  the 
speed  they  had  been  able  to  make  trying  to  keep 
up  with  the  Winged  One.  They,  too,  were 
dressed  in  a  costume  of  Mother  Nature's  design- 
ing, the  close-fitting  garment  of  their  own  skins. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  the  half-breed,  "all 
they  want  is  to  look  at  us."  And  sure  enough, 
the  stragglers  passed  quietly,  devouring  with 
their  eyes  these  so  queer  folks  from  the  other  side 
of  the  world. 

Vivid  with  interest,  Anthony  laid  a  friendly 
hand  on  the  Winged  One  and  showed  his  de- 
lightfully crooked  teeth  in  a  grin  of  comrade- 
ship. The  savage  returned  it  with  a  cool  stare, 
but  the  color  spreading  in  a  deep  blush,  wave 
upon  wave,  from  brow  to  toes,  under  his  bronze 
skin,  showed  that  the  compliment  had  gone 
home  to  his  lonely  little  slave  heart.  His  agita- 
tion made  the  pigeon  flutter  at  his  side. 

At  this  response,  Anthony  threw  back  his 
head  and  laughed  aloud.  Indians  have  a  sense 
of  humor,  but  they  do  not  yield  to  laughter  as 
this  French  boy  did.  The  merry  sound  drew  the 

20 


WHITE  CALUMET 

little  slave  to  him  and  the  two  strays,  one  from 
Picardy,  one  from  the  desert,  went  together  to 
join  the  trader  and  the  priest. 

Hundreds  of  Indians,  inhabitants  of  three 
villages,  had  come  to  see  the  white  men.  They 
were  gathered  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  the 
sachem's  bark  tent.  An  envoy  made  a  speech  of 
greeting : 

"We  thank  thee  for  taking  so  much  pains  to 
come  and  visit  us.  Never  has  the  earth  seemed 
so  lovely  nor  the  sun  so  bright  as  to-day.  Never 
has  the  Great  River  been  so  calm  nor  so  free 
from  rocks.  Your  magic  canoes  have  removed 
all  obstacles  as  they  came.  Never  has  our 
tobacco  tasted  so  fine  nor  our  corn  looked  so 
thriving.  Come  and  dwell  with  us  that  we  may 
know  your  Manitou!" 

To  honor  the  guests  a  busy  preparation  for  a 
grand  feast  was  going  forward  in  the  center  of 
the  town.  There  was  to  be  smoking  of  the 
peace  pipes.  Most  splendid  of  all,  a  dance  of  the 
calumet  was  soon  to  begin. 

Warriors  strutted  in  the  front  rows  of  the 
crowd.  Squaws  slipped  to  the  back.  Men  and 
women  singers  gathered  under  a  tree.  Little 
red  cubs  of  babies  scuttled  in  and  out.  Dogs 
got  under  everybody's  feet.  The  sun  was  going 
down  and  firelight  and  twilight  mingled  with  the 
shadows. 

On  a  mat  of  woven  rushes  lay  the  all-powerful 

3  21 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

calumet.  It  was  a  pipe  with  a  red-stone  bowl  for 
tobacco  and  a  long  hollow  stem  of  two  feet  or 
more.  Feathers  of  the  white  eagle  decorated  it. 
Red  feathers  would  have  meant  a  calumet  of 
war — and  destruction  to  the  guests! 

This  calumet  was  to  be  given  as  the  greatest 
of  all  compliments  to  the  bead-bringing  visitors. 
It  was  a  passport,  a  letter  of  credit,  and  a  talis- 
man to  any  group  of  strange  Indians. 

When  the  music  for  the  dance  began  all  the 
Indians  sang  the  same  air,  but  they  sang  in 
octaves.  The  soprano  of  the  women  and  boys, 
the  barytone  of  some  men,  the  bass  of  others, 
produced  a  chorus  full  and  rich.  Drums,  many 
high,  a  few  low  in  tone,  supplied  the  place  of 
harmonized  chords  which  Indian  composers 
cannot  manage.  To  this  accompaniment,  weird 
and  incomplete,  but  agreeable  to  Anthony's  ear, 
the  dancers  stepped  in  perfect  time  and  graceful 
swaying  as  they  kept  to  the  long-drawn-out,  be- 
wildering, and  sweetly  monotonous  round  upon 
round. 

As  the  shining  copper-red  bodies  of  the  dancers 
gyrated,  their  shadows  leaped  and  fell.  When 
the  firelight  flickered,  the  eyes  of  the  watching 
hundreds  squatting  in  the  background  glowed 
green  like  fox-fire. 

In  the  pauses  of  the  music  speeches  were  made 
and  more  presents  given,  first  by  the  sachems 
and  then  by  the  Frenchmen. 

22 


WHITE  CALUMET 

The  French  had  so  strong  a  passion  for 
courtesy  as  to  carry  their  good  manners  even 
into  the  wigwams  of  savages.  In  return  the 
natives  were  glad  to  honor  such  guests  with 
barbaric  splendor.  Perhaps  of  all  the  strange 
things  that  have  happened  on  the  Great  River 
none  is  stranger  than  the  fact  that  white  men  of  a 
later  day  should  have  forgotten  the  politeness 
with  which  the  clever  Illinois  nations  first  re- 
ceived their  race  and  should  have  rudely  and 
greedily  turned  such  powerful  allies  into  revenge- 
ful foes. 

As  they  went  on  down  the  river  the  priest 
handled  the  calumet  gingerly  and  carried  it  in  a 
prominent  place.  "Odd!"  he  said,  "that  a  toy 
of  feathers  should  be  the  god  of  peace  and  war! 
In  a  wilderness  where  brute  force  and  cunning 
seem  to  hold  sway  that  the  power  of  an  idea— 
a  fanciful  amulet — should  be  the  arbiter  of  life 
and  death!  That  scientific  explorers  should  pin 
their  hopes  to  an  eagle's  plume!" 

As  they  went  from  one  village  to  another  some 
natives  showed  them  hospitality,  some  indiffer- 
ence, some  hatred,  but  all  were  obedient  to  the 
white  calumet's  demand  for  peace.  "Men  do 
not  give  to  the  crowns  and  scepters  of  kings  the 
honor  Indians  pay  to  the  calumet." 

Very  often  at  sunrise  Anthony  could  prophesy 
to  the  little  slave:  "To-day  we  will  come  to  a 
wattled  hamlet.  The  Sieur  Joliet  will  give 

23 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

knives  and  trinkets  to  the  sachems.  The  Pere 
Marquette  will  preach.  Each  Indian  will  touch 
my  curls  to  feel  if  they  are  real  and  ask  what 
kind  of  a  stone  I  use  to  file  my  teeth  nice  and 
crooked  so  the  songs  will  come  through."  At 
sunset  he  could  add,  "I  told  you  so!" 

But  when  on  a  quiet  morning  at  33°  latitude 
the  little  slave  foretold,  "The  Winged  One 
to-day  will  meet  many  enemies,"  Anthony  did 
not  believe  him,  for  none  of  the  white  men 
could  see  signs  of  Indians. 

"In  yonder  elm  a  sentinel  sits." 

The  explorers  glanced  sharply  about;  nothing 
showed  among  the  leaves. 

"Above  the  whitewood  a  smoke  signal  rises." 

Only  summer  drifts  of  cloud  met  their  gaze. 

"Red  men  stalk  the  white." 

It  was  unbelievable;  the  level  shore  spaces 
were  empty. 

"Ambushed!"  cried  the  child.  "Hold  up  the 
calumet!" 

Wooden  pirogues  loaded  with  armed  savages 
swung  across  the  Mississippi  in  front  of  them. 
A  startled  backward  turn  showed  them  another 
barrage  of  the  same  sort  cutting  off  retreat  up- 
river.  On  both  shores  painted  and  feathered 
men  sprang  up  by  dozens  to  howl  like  fiends. 
They  leaped  into  the  water  to  catch  the  canoes. 
A  kindly  eddy  swirled  the  birch  barks  out  of 
reach.  Whoops  of  rage  burst  from  the  warriors. 

24 


WHITE  CALUMET 

A  shower  of  arrows  chased  the  explorers. 
Tomahawks  whizzed  close. 

They  ducked ;  ducked  promptly. 

Not  so  the  little  slave.  He  stood  erect  and  let 
a  tomahawk  snip  off  half  his  cherished  topknot 
without  flinching. 

An  Indian  child  baiting  warriors  caught  the 
attention  of  the  old  braves.  They  scanned  him 
so  closely  that  they  saw  the  calumet  at  which 
he  pointed.  They  hastened  to  throw  down  their 
bows  and  arrows  in  token  of  submission  to  the 
peace  pipe.  Magic  calumet! 

Anthony  did  not  enjoy  the  visit  which  followed 
nor  the  meetings  with  other  inhabitants  of  this 
group  of  villages.  He  had  a  constant  desire  to 
look  behind  him.  There  was  often  a  queer 
weakness  in  his  knees.  He  wanted  to  keep  his 
curly  scalp  close  to  the  white  eagle  feathers. 
The  temper  of  these  observers  of  the  calumet's 
command  was  not  all  he  wished  it  might  be. 

Yet  when  one  of  the  Akamsea  sachems  stood 
up  in  formal  pow-wow  his  words  were  fair.  And 
he  was  agreeable  to  look  upon.  He  was  tall. 
He  was  straight.  He  shone  like  a  copper  candle- 
stick. He  had  on  his  best  clothes — that  is,  there 
was  a  blue  quill  in  his  nose  and  a  red  one  over 
his  left  ear.  For  the  rest  he  wore  a  blank  ex- 
pression and  he  carried  his  own  white  calumet. 

He  told  them,  "Only  once  has  a  white  man 
seen  our  Great  River,"  then  added,  with  cold 

25 


significance,  "He  lies  buried  here  under  the 
water." 

He  meant  the  Spaniard,  Hernandez  De  Soto, 
who  had  come  across  the  country  from  the 
southeast  more  than  a  century  before,  and  who 
had  died  in  1541  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi, 
which  he  was  undoubtedly  the  first  to  find. 

"A  few  days'  paddling  to  the  south  will  bring 
your  canoes  to  the  mouth  of  this  Father  of 
Waters;  for  it  flows  into  the  southern  Gulf," 
the  sachem  said. 

Where  the  Messipi  went  was  one  of  the  chief 
things  the  French  wanted  the  Sieur  Joliet  to 
learn.  This  speech  of  the  sachem  was  telling 
him  exactly  what  he  wished  to  know. 

"Savage  Indians,  in  league  with  white  men 
who  do  not  observe  the  calumet,  infest  the 
waters  of  the  Gulf,"  was  the  sachem's  next 
sinister  hint. 

If  the  Frenchmen  and  their  maps  fell  into  the 
hands  of  their  rivals,  Spain  could  claim  and  take 
immense  territory  just  explored  by  the  agents  of 
France.  How  might  seven  men  in  birch  bark 
hold  out  against  the  cutlasses  and  "six-pounders" 
of  a  galleon? 

To  keep  what  one  has  gained  is  better  than  to 
lose  all  in  trying  to  win  more.  The  Sieur  Joliet 
gave  one  glance  at  the  low-hanging  pole-star, 
one  word  of  command  to  his  followers,  and  be- 
fore his  doubtful  hosts  could  form  a  plan  for  or 

26 


WHITE  CALUMET 

against  him  the  explorers  were  paddling  with  all 
speed  up  the  Mississippi  beyond  the  chance  of 
pursuit. 

The  Winged  One  fed  his  pigeon  chinkapin, 
which  he  called  chechinquamin,  with  royal  un- 
concern, but  Anthony  did  his  work  nervously. 
"I  am  always  kind  to  our  slave,"  he  thought,  as 
he  watched  the  little  Indian  with  pity,  "but  I 
cannot  be  sure  how  the  Spaniards  will  treat  me 
if  they  catch  us." 

Slavery  in  various  forms  has  been  part  of  the 
Great  River's  life.  After  the  news  of  its  dis- 
covery had  spread  and  vessels  from  many  lands 
dragged  their  anchors  at  its  mouth,  captives 
red,  white,  brown,  yellow,  and  black  were  traded 
to  anybody  and  everybody  for  kegs  of  rum,  or 
hogsheads  of  molasses,  or  bundles  of  tobacco. 

Among  the  pioneers  who  later  came  to  set- 
tle the  prairies  and  woodlands  of  its  fertile 
shores  were  numerous  bound  children,  inden- 
tured servants  and  redemptioners.  Then  ship- 
load upon  ship-load  of  stolen  African  negroes 
were  brought  to  the  fields  of  the  South  when 
the  invention  of  the  cotton-gin  made  their  labor 
profitable.  For  nearly  two  hundred  years  the 
river  washed  away  the  tears  of  hapless  bondsmen. 

To  escape  any  native  pursuers  whom  his 
enemies  might  send  after  him  the  Sieur  Joliet 
4ed  his  men  up  the  Illinois  River  to  the  Chakakou, 
which  the  glaciers  had  twisted  to  run  into  Lake 

27 


Michigan,  but  which  daring  modern  engineers 
have  turned  back  again  as  it  was  in  theverybegin- 
ning,  so  that  nowadays  the  system  of  the  Great 
Lakes  is  partly  drained  into  the  Great  River 
by  the  same  Chicago,  a  geographical  condition 
which  was  not  true  when  Anthony  helped  to 
draw  it  on  the  maps. 

Pere  Marquette  went  on  to  his  Indians  at 
Mackinaw.  Sieur  Joliet  took  Anthony  and  the 
little  slave  and  one  coureur  de  bois  and  kept  on 
down  toward  Quebec  to  report.  When  at  last 
they  came  near  Montreal,  full  of  the  triumph  of 
their  great  discovery,  they  had  paddled,  since 
the  beginning  of  their  venture,  something  like 
three  thousand  miles.  It  was  two  years  since 
the  leader  had  left  this  fort  for  the  West. 

It  was  an  autumn  morning.  Brilliantly 
colored  forests  lined  the  shores,  and  between 
two  big  rocks,  like  a  cathedral  door,  the  rapids 
ahead  sparkled  in  a  vista  of  incomparable  love- 
liness. Over  them  nights  of  migrating  pigeons 
winged  their  way.  The  pet  on  the  little  slave's 
wrist  cooed  an  instinctive  answer  to  their  call, 
rose  in  a  flash  of  silver  and  soared  into  their 
midst. 

With  a  cry  of  sorrow  as  though  he  were  losing 
his  dearest  friend,  the  small  chieftain  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  threw  up  his  hands  as  if  to  catch 
it  as  it  flew.  Too  late  to  check  this  impetuous 
movement,  the  other  three  crouched  low  and 

28 


THE   MEN    WENT   HEADLONG   INTO   THE   RAPIDS 


WHITE  CALUMET 

swung  their  bodies  in  a  frenzied  attempt  to 
preserve  the  balance  of  the  canoe.  Useless!  It 
capsized  on  the  instant. 

The  men  went  headlong  into  the  rapids.  The 
canoe  smashed  against  a  rock. 

All  the  heavy  goods  dropped  to  the  bottom  of 
the  channel.  Lighter  stuff  floated  on  the 
current  a  moment  and  then  sank.  Priceless 
notes  and  maps  and  drawings  burst  their  water- 
proof coverings  on  a  sharp  projection,  were 
scattered  on  a  hundred  waves,  soaked  with 
spray,  hurled  away,  and  utterly  destroyed. 

Anthony  plunged  to  the  bottom.  Treading 
water  he  tore  off  his  jerkin  and  came  to  the 
surface.  He  caught  at  an  exposed  stone.  It 
was  rough  enough  for  a  fingerhold  and  he 
might  have  saved  himself  had  he  not  seen, 
sweeping  past  him,  his  Indian  brother,  the 
Winged  One.  Crushed  by  some  cruel  rock, 
lifeless,  beyond  all  human  help,  the  stripling 
royal,  a  slave  no  longer,  drifted  out  into  the 
happy  hunting-grounds  of  all  his  race. 

Strong  arms  grasped  Anthony — pulled  him  up 
to  blessed  air.  He  was  kept  afloat  and  dragged 
free  of  the  rapids.  With  the  Sieur  Joliet's 
fingers  in  his  hair  to  help,  he  began  to  swim 
again.  They  gained  the  bank  and  clambered  to 
safety. 

But  the  coureur  de  boh — that  laughing,  hairy 
faun — had  perished  with  the  Indian. 

29 


In  bitterness  and  despair  the  boy  fell  upon  the 
sod  and  abandoned  himself  to  grief. 

The  Sieur  Joliet  stood  white  and  cold,  like  a 
ghost  from  whom  all  hope  has  fled. 

Oh,  the  cruelty  of  fate !  To  carry  them  harm- 
less through  half  a  hundred  rapids,  only  to  ship- 
wreck them  in  sight  of  home! 

A  long,  hard  voyage  had  come  to  naught ;  the 
proof  of  his  greatest  discovery  was  lost. 

"I  have  nothing  left  but  my  life,"  he  groaned. 

Bruised  and  battered,  soaking  wet  and  in 
rags,  they  trudged  on  through  a  forest  path. 
Sometimes  they  sank  in  utter  weariness ;  of tener 
they  supported  each  other  with  renewed  courage. 
And  so  at  last  the  fort  came  in  sight  and  opened 
its  comforting  home-like  gates  to  them. 

Here  the  sorrowful  Anthony  saw  the  ex- 
plorer give  his  empty  hands  to  the  commandant. 
It  seemed  to  the  boy  that  all  the  glory  of  their 
expedition  had  gone  out  in  tragedy  like  the  poor 
little  slave  who  was  lost  in  the  rapids. 

Imagine  his  astonishment  when  he  received 
the  command,  "Bring  me,  Tony,  a  pot  of  ink 
and  some  quills." 

The  obedient  Anthony,  standing  as  assistant, 
with  his  gray  eyes  growing  wider  and  wider  with 
admiration,  saw  the  Sieur  Joliet  set  the  quills 
to  parchment.  Under  his  skilful  fingers  there 
grew  a  picture  of  the  course  of  the  Great  River 
as  he  recollected  it.  He  drew  its  twists  and  turns, 

30 


WHITE  CALUMET 

its  distances  and  latitudes,  put  down  the  location 
and  the  names  of  the  villages  where  he  had 
received  the  calumet. 

It  was  a  curious  document  of  amazing  ac- 
curacy. From  it  grew  the  further  history  of  the 
Mississippi.  Whenever  an  adventurer  wanted 
to  go  a- wandering  he  studied  this  map.  To 
Western  explorers  it  became  their  book  of  A  B  C. 


Ill 


SIX   SIOUX 

Marching  into  Captivity  under  the  War-bonnets,  Who  Caught  Friar 
Hennepin — A  Manitou  Becomes  a  Miller 

THE  cold  nose  of  a  dog  nuzzled  into  Anthony's 
ear.  He  woke  with  a  jerk.  Peeping  from 
under  the  brush  screen  of  his  camp  he  saw  a 
file  of  canoes  drifting  in  the  moonlight.  He 
crouched  low,  pistol  in  hand,  and  waited.  No 
wild  animal  of  the  wood  could  have  held  itself 
motionless  any  better  than  the  boy  did.  His 
two  companions  were  asleep,  weapons  ready  at 
their  sides.  The  little  dog,  trained  in  a  hard 
school,  stood  like  a  pointer. 

The  canoes  came  on.  Each  silhouetted  a 
dozen  war-bonnets  against  the  silver  river;  then 
it  slowly  vanished.  One  by  one  they  went  down- 
stream. Anthony  sighed  with  relief.  His  path 
was  up-stream.  How  much  better  to  have  the 
warriors  pass  in  the  night  than  to  meet  them  on 
the  river! 

For  northern  Indians  promptly  murdered  any 

32 


SIX  SIOUX 

white  men  whom  they  found  after  dark.  It  was 
an  easy  way  to  win  the  steel  knives  which  they 
coveted  more  than  any  other  one  thing.  Trav- 
elers hid  themselves  at  sunset,  avoided  prowlers 
in  the  gloaming,  and  tried  to  visit  natives  by  day 
in  villages  known  to  be  peaceful.  The  arms 
carried  by  a  small  trading  party  were  of  little 
use  against  a  band  of  warriors. 

Anthony  lay  down  to  rest  again.  He  praised 
and  petted  the  dog,  who  was  proud  to  stay  on 
guard.  But  he  could  not  go  to  sleep.  There 
might  be  more  Indians,  painted  for  battle, 
coming  after  these. 

He  was  not  as  eager  as  usual  for  the  voyage 
forward.  Yet  the  backward  route  was  impossi- 
ble. Behind  him  lay  his  base  of  supplies,  Fort 
Crevecceur,  that  unhappy  post  whose  very  name 
meant  heartbreak.  Its  safety  depended  some- 
what on  the  results  of  this  journey  of  his,  and 
he  could  not  see  much  luck  ahead  if  the  river 
was  going  to  be  peopled  with  fighting-men  of 
savage  tribes. 

Anthony  was  not  equipped  for  war;  only  for 
defense.  Besides  the  pistol  he  had  a  sword.  It 
had  been  given  him  by  the  Sieur  Joliet. 

For  his  successful  explorations  the  French 
government  had  rewarded  the  Sieur  Joliet  with 
the  island  of  Anticosti,  where  he  had  established 
a  manor  and  given  the  boy  a  home.  From  there 
Anthony  had  brought  the  sword  and  the  pistol 

33 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

and  his  ever-recurring  wanderlust  to  an  expedi- 
tion which  Robert  Cavelier,  called  the  Sieur  La 
Salle,  was  fitting  out  to  develop  the  Mississippi 
Basin. 

Under  a  patent  from  the  king  several  forts  for 
trade  and  for  defense  had  already  been  built. 
This  one  of  Crevecceur  was  the  Sieur  La  Salle's 
farthest  outpost.  It  was  the  one  French  settle- 
ment to  hold  their  claim  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley. 

They  had  built  it  without  trouble  from  the 
gentle  Illinois  Indians,  but  the  reckless  ad- 
venturers who  made  up  the  troops  which  de- 
fended it  became  so  unruly  when  they  were  shut 
up  in  the  little  stockade  during  the  winter  that 
a  mutiny  seemed  always  at  hand. 

No  one  knew  when  he  laid  his  head  on  his 
pillow  at  night  whether  he  would  still  be  wearing 
it  in  the  morning. 

So  far,  the  strong  hand  of  the  commander  had 
kept  the  soldiers  within  bounds,  but  even  he 
thought  it  wise  to  send  out  scouts  as  early  -as 
possible  to  the  western  waters  who  might  bring 
back  news  of  fresh  discoveries,  of  more  lands, 
perhaps  gold-fields,  to  conquer.  Then  the 
troops  would  forget  their  quarrels  and  advance 
together  under  discipline  in  the  hope  of  treasure 
trove. 

A  second  group  of  traders  promised  to  follow 
this  first  one  to  keep  a  line  for  traffic  and  mes- 

34 


SIX  SIOUX 

sages  open.  Where  Anthony  went  others  could 
go.  He  was  the  scout. 

A  man  named  Accau  was  put  in  charge  of  ten 
thousand  livres'  worth  of  goods  in  beads  and 
knives  and  trinkets,  for  trading  with  any 
Indians  they  might  meet.  A  Franciscan  friar, 
Louis  Hennepin,  was  sent  as  a  missionary  to  the 
natives. 

"Anybody  but  us  would  be  afraid  to  under- 
take such  a  journey,"  he  had  bragged,  quite 
frankly. 

"Perhaps  you  are,  anyway,"  Accau  had  com- 
mented, "/am." 

Anthony  was  glum  and  talked  little.  And  the 
fourth  member  of  this  exploring  party,  a  King 
Charles  spaniel,  Accau's  pet,  said  nothing  at  all. 
A  faithful  sentinel  he  stood  watch  at  night, 
fulfilled  his  round  of  duties,  and  found  no  fault 
with  anything.  King  Charles  was  truly  royal; 
it  was  a  joy  to  belong  to  his  court. 

Their  canoe  had  dropped  down  the  Illinois 
and  then  turned  north  on  the  Great  River. 

They  had  fended  off  huge  floating  cakes  of 
ice  in  the  current;  they  had  fought  hungry  bears 
on  the  bank;  they  had  struggled  with  cold  all 
the  time  and  everywhere. 

And  now  as  he  lay  and  watched  with  King 
Charles,  on  the  lookout  for  more  Indians  on  the 
river,  Anthony  had  one  of  those  blue  moods 
which  told  him  that  he  would  probably  have 

35 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

trouble  with  savages  on  top  of  his  other  woes. 
For  they  had  passed  the  mouth  of  the  Wisconsin 
and  were  in  country  new  to  them.  Glimpses  of 
red  men  came  oftener  and  oftener. 

They  continually  looked  for  overhanging 
trees  on  the  shore-line,  and  when  they  heard  or 
saw  savages  coming  they  hid  under  the  branches 
until  the  strangers  had  gone  again. 

But  now  in  mid-April — it  was  the  year  of  1680 
— they  found  themselves  in  such  a  narrow  and 
crooked  channel  that  Accau  became  alarmed. 
"Go  ashore,"  he  commanded  Anthony.  "Peep 
around  each  bend  and  signal  us  to  follow  with 
the  canoe  if  the  way  is  safe." 

The  friar  picked  up  his  beads  for  a  fervent 
prayer  to  his  patron,  Saint  Anthony  of  Padua. 

Alas  and  alack!  All  their  caution  came  too 
late. 

Without  a  sound  of  blade  in  the  water,  with- 
out a  tone  of  human  voice,  a  dozen  or  so  of  birch- 
bark  craft  swept  round  the  point  and  swooped 
down  upon  them! 

There  were  three  or  four  war-bonnets  in  each 
canoe.  It  was  a  pursuing  party  such  as  Anthony 
had  dreaded. 

At  the  sight  of  quarry  the  savages  broke  the 
silence.  They  split  the  air  with  war-whoops. 
They  surrounded  the  explorers'  canoe;  grabbed 
it;  hustled  it  ashore.  Big  game! 

The  Frenchmen  were  confused  with  the 

36 


SIX  SIOUX 

topsy-turvy  handling,  the  flutter  of  feathers,  and 
the  deafening  howls. 

They  tried  to  show  a  bold  front.  Pere  Louis 
said,  "They  cannot  terrify  me,"  and  he  coolly 
picked  out  the  ugliest  chief,  a  furrowed  old 
sinner  named  Aquipaguetin,  and  presented  the 
calumet.  That  worthy  snatched  it  from  the 
friar  and  left  him  at  the  mercy  of  the  fierce 
young  braves. 

These  youths  were  eager  to  destroy  the 
Frenchmen.  Dozens  of  stone  knives  and  war- 
clubs  were  ready. 

It  was  not  mercy  which  stayed  them.  It  was 
indecision. 

How  was  any  warrior  to  scalp  such  curious 
heads? 

Above  an  odd  white  face  unlike  anything  these 
savages  had  ever  seen  the  Pere  Louis,  neatly 
tonsured,  had  no  hair  in  the  place  where  hair 
ought  to  be.  Accau  sported  a  great  beard. 
Whiskers  were  unknown  among  Indians. 

King  Charles,  gazing  from  his  hiding-place  in 
his  master's  jerkin,  showed  a  second  hairy  face. 
The  savages  were  dazed  at  this  double  vision. 
They  stared  at  Accau.  They  could  not  make 
up  or  down  of  him.  Spring  winds  had  burnt 
Anthony's  blond  skin  to  a  fiery  hue.  His  fair 
curls  were  tousled.  Such  a  countenance  in  such 
a  halo  was  too  much  for  them.  Light  hair  was 
something  entirely  new.  Curls  were  ornaments 

4  37 

461831 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

undreamed  of.  Although  he  bore  hair  enough 
for  a  dozen  scalps  they  had  no  method  for 
collecting  it. 

As  they  hesitated,  a  younger  and  wiser  chief, 
Narrhetoba,  commanded  the  observance  of  the 
calumet.  There  was  a  flurry  of  objections,  but 
they  obeyed.  The  bloodthirsty  eyes  were  turned 
from  the  baffling  scalps  to  the  presents  which 
the  explorers  were  trying  to  show. 

Anthony  addressed  them  in  one  Algonquin 
dialect  after  another.  Accau  tried  them  in 
Iroquois  and  Huron.  The  friar  thundered  at 
them  in  Latin,  French,  Portuguese,  and  Dutch. 
All  words  were  alike  to  them. 

A  howl  went  up.  "Mi-am-hi!  Mi-am-hi! 
Mi-am-hi!" 

Anthony  picked  up  a  stick.  "I'll  draw  a  map 
on  the  sand  and  show  them  that  I  saw  those 
Indians  pass  in  the  night  far  below  here;  the 
whole  tribe  is  now  scudding  westward  over  the 
prairies  out  of  reach." 

The  map  was  drawn.  Its  meaning  was  plain ; 
its  news  was  unwelcome. 

A  clamor  of  rage  followed.  The  old  men  wept 
aloud. 

Aquipaguetin  in  particular  lamented  loudly. 

The  white  men  guessed  that  this  chief  had 
lost  a  son  in  battle  with  the  Miamis  and  that  he 
was  leading  the  Sioux  in  hope  of  revenge.  So 
disappointed  was  he  at  the  turn  of  events  that 

38 


SIX  SIOUX 

he  shed  grimy  tears  all  over  Pere  Louis'  shaven 
crown. 

"This  old  fellow  carries  his  son's  bones  with 
him  to  keep  his  wrath  in  mind,"  the  friar  ex- 
plained as  well  as  he  could  above  the  hubbub. 
"If  he  can't  get  even  with  the  Miamis  he  will 
take  out  his  anger  on  the  next  people  at  hand — 
Frenchmen." 

All  the  other  chiefs  began  to  wail. 

"I  think  that  we,  too,  are  the  same  as  dead," 
murmured  Accau.  "They  mourn  as  they  would 
over  the  slain,"  and  his  whiskers  quivered  with 
dread  of  torture  and  the  stake.  In  hope  of 
diverting  the  Indians  he  began  to  hand  out 
presents  to  Anthony,  who  tossed  them  with 
much  show  to  the  friar,  who  in  turn  threw  them 
among  the  chiefs,  who  groveled  to  them  like 
Circe's  swine.  Half  a  dozen  axes  and  twice 
that  number  of  knives  made  a  fine  exhibit. 

With  the  quick  rolling  eyes  of  men  in  deadly 
peril,  the  Frenchmen  noticed  that  the  Indians, 
in  spite  of  gay  paint  and  big  feathers,  were  poorly 
set  up.  Their  skin  clothes  were  old,  ragged, 
meager;  their  bodies  more  than  half  naked  in 
the  chill  weather.  Their  jewelry  was  of  shells, 
their  embroideries  of  quills.  Not  one  bit  of  iron 
showed,  nor  did  they  have  beads. 

How  like  glittering  wealth  the  bright  cutting 
edges  of  the  traders'  knives  must  look  to  them! 
By  simple  pantomime  the  friar  told  these 

39 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

savages  that  many  more  white  men  with  much 
more  steel  were  coming  to  give  presents  to  those 
who  were  friendly  and  to  kill  those  who  were 
not.  Then  he  bent  his  neck  with  humility, 
bared  it,  and  offering  Narrhetoba  one  of  the 
sharp  axes,  cried,  "Dare  you  to  cut  off  a  white 
man's  head?" 

At  that  a  hush  fell  on  the  group.  Across  the 
spring  sunshine  falling  through  the  leaves  came 
a  sparrow's  song.  One  long  moment  passed  in 
hesitation. 

Aquipaguetin  longed  to  try  a  knife  in  just 
such  use.  But  Narrhetoba,  who  held  the  ax, 
was  of  another  generation.  He  had  a  com- 
mercial spirit.  He  saw  a  long  line  of  white 
traders  from  whom  he  might  gain  more  in  barter 
than  he  could  from  these  three  by  violence. 
He  withheld  his  hand.  By  so  doing  he  then  and 
there  split  the  warrior  band  into  two  sections — 
those  whose  motives  were  like  Aquipaguetin's, 
robbery  through  murder;  and  those  who,  like 
Narrhetoba,  preferred  the  safer  and  greater  gain 
by  exploitation. 

Father  Louis  bellowed  at  them  in  his  biggest 
pulpit  voice.  The  still  aisles  of  the  forest  began 
to  resound  with  his  words:  "I  am  resolved  to 
allow  myself  to  be  killed  without  resistance. 
Behold  the  example  I  set  you!  I  come  to  con- 
vert the  heathen." 

Not  one  word  could  his  listeners  understand. 

40 


SIX  SIOUX 

But  Narrhetoba  nodded  his  approval  of  this 
speech.    He  liked  the  spirit  of  the  friar. 

Accau  began  to  take  on  hope  for  his  skin  and 
his  goods.  Anthony,  who  had  been  sweating  in 
cold  drops,  shook  himself  warm  again  and  un- 
screwed his  drawn  brows.  "Perhaps  I  can  pla- 
cate Aquipaguetin,  who  is  cross  at  missing  his 
kill."  And  the  boy  raised  his  pistol.  In  the 
gaping  sight  of  all  he  fired  into  a  flock  of  wild 
turkeys  which  was  whirling  heavily  across  the 
open  shore  space  near  where  the  council  stood. 
Two  fell  from  the  single  shot. 

The  savages  fell  upon  the  game  like  roaches 
on  a  crumb.  The  feathered  victims  were  pulled 
and  torn  apart.  Indians  who  had  never  seen  a 
gun  examined  the  wonder  of  that  shot.  The 
birds'  bones  were  broken  as  no  arrow  could  do 
it.  How  desirable  one  of  those  iron  "lightning 
sticks"  would  be  for  crippling  an  enemy! 

Aquipaguetin  seemed  to  be  telling  them  that 
one  gun  in  the  hand  was  worth  any  number  in 
the  dim  future.  The  braves  at  Narrhetoba's 
side  snapped  back  that  two  guns  would  not  go 
round.  Wait  for  traders! 

Narrhetoba,  not  looking  quite  as  good  a  friend 
as  his  gestures  said  he  was,  soon  brought  their 
calumet  back  to  them,  made  each  take  a  puff, 
had  one  himself,  and  then  gave  it  as  a  bitter  pill 
to  the  defeated  Aquipaguetin.  "Peace  among 
us,"  was  what  the  smoking  meant. 

41 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Immediately  the  canoes  were  shoved  into  the 
water.  The  explorers  were  jostled  into  them  as 
rudely  as  they  had  been  taken  out.  Prows  were 
turned  up-stream.  Anthony  took  heart.  As 
long  as  they  moved  in  the  direction  his  duty 
demanded  he^could  make  observations. 

Father  Louis  stood  up  in  the  canoe  as  though 
he  were  pronouncing  a  benediction  on  those 
congregated  round  him  and  he  gravely  intoned 
these  words,  "I  am  not  sorry  to  continue  the 
business  of  making  our  discoveries  in  connection 
with  these  native  inhabitants." 

For  nineteen  of  the  long,  long  days  of  April 
they  were  hurried  up  the  river  at  a  furious  pace. 
Peep  o'  day  routed  them  from  their  slumbers 
on  the  ground.  They  were  given  a  hasty  bit  of 
food  and  pushed  into  the  canoes.  Sometimes 
they  stopped  for  dinner,  sometimes  not.  Cease- 
lessly until  dusk  the  paddling  continued. 

Four  miles  an  hour  up-stream!  It  was  a 
frightful  speed!  All  records  for  that  generation 
were  broken  by  the  muscular  Sioux.  Ten  hours 
a  day!  For  twice  ten  days!  Anthony  grew 
stupid  from  the  excessive  toil.  The  friar  was 
so  jumbled  in  his  note-taking  that  neither  he 
nor  his  friends  were  able  to  understand  some  of 
his  words.  Poor  Accau  was  worn  out  with  the 
rough  going.  "I  am  always  being  waked  up, 
yet  I  never  have  a  chance  to  go  to  sleep,"  he 
grumbled. 

42 


SIX  SIOUX 

The  white  men  sank  exhausted  whenever  they 
stopped  on  shore.  But  the  young  Indians, 
scrawny,  sorry-looking  specimens  whose  bodies 
seemed  as  despicable  as  their  minds,  danced 
vigorously  around  the  camp-fire  half  the  night 
singing  the  same  verse  of  the  same  song  over 
and  over  again.  The  old  Indians  sat  up  and 
applauded  by  continuous  yells  until  the  fires 
burnt  out.  Then  they  stood  watch,  turn  about, 
until  dawn.  At  sun-up  they  were  wide  awake 
and  well  started  on  another  day. 

Each  night  Aquipaguetin  began  a  weeping 
harangue  in  favor  of  killing  the  Frenchmen, 
only  to  be  out-talked  and  defrauded  of  his 
prey. 

Thus  through  bad  days  and  worse  nights  the 
upper  Mississippi  was  first  navigated.  These 
three  Frenchmen  in  constant  jeopardy  dis- 
covered and  described  it.  No  wonder  they 
named  a  beautiful  body  of  water  they  found 
Lake  Pepin  (lake  of  tears)  in  honor  of  that 
sobbing  old  rascal  Aquipaguetin. 

Suddenly  one  day  they  were  set  ashore,  their 
canoe  smashed,  their  goods  divided  among  the 
savage  crew,  and  they  themselves  herded  for  a 
cross-country  run. 

All  that  fatigue  of  rowing  upon  their  arms 
was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  strain  now 
put  upon  the  white  men's  legs.  Up  hill — down 
dale — over  streams — through  woods — running — 

43 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

climbing — swimming — they  scurried  at  their 
best,  driven  by  the  tireless  savages,  who  lighted 
the  prairie  grass  at  their  heels  for  the  fun  of 
seeing  them  sprint.  Lucky  for  them  that  their 
feet  were  shod  with  pluck! 

Pell-mell  into  a  native  village  they  came 
at  last.  Howling  squaws,  squealing  papooses, 
yapping  dogs  burst  into  chorus  to  greet  them. 
They  saw  huts  suggesting  shelter,  steaming  pots 
suggesting  food,  and  a  row  of  tall  stakes  tied 
about  with  dried  grass  and  piled  with  faggots — 
suggesting  what? 

The  friar  wondered  how  his  name  would  look 
written  among  the  martyrs.  Accau's  eyes 
followed  the  goods  with  which  he  had  been 
trusted ;  he  would  need  them  no  more.  Anthony, 
viewing  these  preparations  for  the  reception  of 
any  prisoners  the  war  party  brought,  felt  as 
hollow  as  a  drum.  "The  frying-pan  of  captivity 
is  better  than  the  fire  of  those  stakes,"  he 
thought. 

The  more  frightened  a  Frenchman  is  the 
quicker  his  wits  work,  the  more  his  gestures 
multiply,  and  the  higher  his  courage  rises.  The 
boy  stooped  and  picked  up  a  bunch  of  feathers 
blowing  near  his  feet.  If  he  had  not  seen  the 
feathers  he  would  have  taken  something  else, 
so  short  was  the  time  for  action  and  so  dire  the 
need. 

Into  the  center  of  the  circle  made  by  the  little 

44 


SIX  SIOUX 

red  blotches  of  the  supper  fires  he  stepped 
pompously.  He  thus  came  into  full  view  of  the 
big  chief,  Ouasicoude,  of  all  the  Sioux.  Separat- 
ing one  lock  from  his  curls  he  thrust  a  feather 
half-way  into  the  coil.  Apparently  intent  upon 
this  odd  toilet  he  arranged  curl  after  curl,  until 
the  whole  tribe,  as  curious  as  crows,  were  giving 
him  their  full  attention. 

Then  he  turned  his  irresistible  smile  toward 
Ouasicoude  and  gaily  burst  into  laughter. 
Still  laughing,  he  began  to  dance.  He  changed 
from  laughing  into  singing — not  the  slow,  mourn- 
ful, coarse,  and  angular  amusement  of  the  Sioux, 
but  a  lively,  tuneful  jig  of  Picardy  lads. 

He  was  several  years  older  than  when  he  had 
sung  to  please  the  Pere  Marquette.  His  voice 
had  settled  to  a  golden  barytone.  It  fell  agree- 
ably upon  the  ears  of  the  most  high  executioner 
and  he  was  seized  with  an  idea  which  at  some 
time  or  other  has  awakened  in  the  breast  of 
every  king,  "Why  not  have  a  minstrel  at  my 
court?"  or,  as  Ouasicoude  put  it,  "Why  not  keep 
loud  medicine  in  my  own  tepee?" 

That  Anthony  and  his  companions  should 
live  or  die,  that  the  trio  should  be  saved  to  give 
their  discoveries  to  the  world,  was  nothing  to 
him;  that  his  royal  self  should  be  amused  was 
everything. 

From  the  pebble-filled  gourd  which  Aqui- 
paguetin  had  thrust  as  a  rattle  on  each  of  the 

45 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

doomed  men,  the  boy  shook  out  a  mocking  tune 
as  he  danced  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  stakes. 
At  close  range  he  drew  his  pistol  and  shot  into 
the  dried  grass  on  one  of  them.  As  will  often 
happen  from  such  a  charge  the  burning  powder 
set  the  stuff  on  fire.  It  blazed  up.  Before  the 
astounded  savages  it  consumed  itself.  This  was 
medicine  tremendous!  All  forgot  the  original 
use  of  the  stakes.  They  wanted  this  new  style 
of  bonfire,  and  Anthony  set  them  off  amid  loud 
applause. 

Ouasicoude  loudly  announced  his  intention 
to  adopt  the  singer  as  his  son.  Narrhetoba, 
clever  courtier,  with  an  admiring  glance  at 
King  Charles,  immediately  followed  suit  by 
taking  Accau  and  the  dog.  Glinting  maliciously, 
Aquipaguetin  proclaimed  himself  the  father  of 
the  friar,  introducing  the  Franciscan  to  five 
squat  squaws  who  were  his  new  mothers  because 
they  were  this  chieftain's  wives. 

In  a  twinkling  the  three  explorers  became 
members  of  the  nation.  Ouasicoude  and  An- 
thony, Narrhetoba  and  Accau,  Aquipaguetin 
and  the  Friar  Louis  are  the  six  Sioux  who 
made  this  region  famous  in  its  early  days. 

Now,  the  Sioux  had  a  manitou.  Greater  than 
all  other  manitous  it  demanded  much  worship. 
To  this  deity,  then,  the  Sioux  fathers  must  pre- 
sent their  adopted  sons  as  an  act  of  grace.  When 
the  Frenchmen  were  separated  from  the  other 

46 


SIX  SIOUX 

Indians  and  secretly  led  to  the  holy  place  they 
were  prepared  for  some  solemn  form  of  initiation 
into  the  tribe. 

The  home  of  the  manitou  burst  in  wonder  on 
their  eyes.  It  was  a  splendid  fall  of  laughing 
water.  In  the  midst  of  primeval  grandeur  the 
cascade  dropped  in  a  peerless  sheet  of  spray 
forty  feet  over  a  limestone  ledge.  No  more 
beautiful  spot  for  the  residence  of  any  mani- 
tou could  be  imagined.  He  was  hidden  be- 
hind this  flashing  torrent.  He  loved  sacrifices. 
To  please  him  the  Sioux  of  all  tribes  threw  many 
gifts  into  a  deep  basin  made  by  a  hollow  in  the 
rock. 

Anthony  was  weary  of  captivity.  So  tiresome 
and  degrading  had  his  days  among  these  savages 
become  that  he  almost  wished  he  could  be  lulled 
to  sleep  by  the  voice  of  the  cataract,  never  to 
wake  again. 

But  as  the  boy  watched  old  Aquipaguetin 
grow  more  and  more  fervid  in  his  devotions  and 
saw  him  twitch  his  stone  club  with  eager  fingers 
and  roll  his  eyes  round  and  round  in  search  of 
some  living  thing  which  would  make  a  worthy 
sacrifice,  life  suddenly  seemed  very  precious  to 
Anthony.  He  determined  that  he  should  not 
become  food  for  any  manitou,  no  matter  how 
great. 

Aquipaguetin's  ardor  was  spreading  to  the 
others.  They  caught  his  idea.  What  nobler 

47 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

gifts  had  ever  been  given  to  the  deity  than  these 
adopted  sons  would  make? 

Anthony's  first  thought  for  defense  was,  "I 
must  change  my  father's  point  of  view."  The 
only  remedy  he  knew  for  any  savages'  dangerous 
notion  was  to  turn  their  minds  to  something 
more  startling. 

The  friar  kept  a  wary  front  toward  his  parent- 
foe;  Accau  edged  close  to  Anthony;  King  Charles 
scented  peril  and,  putting  his  tail  between  his  legs, 
sneaked  under  the  waterfall.  The  hint  was  un- 
mistakable. Acting  upon  it,  the  boy,  for  his 
skin's  sake,  resolved  to  outwit  superstition  with 
superstition. 

As  Aquipaguetin  came  toward  him  with 
swinging  club,  the  boy  pulled  his  companions 
within  the  sacred  arc  of  rainbow  spray  where 
no  Indian  dared  follow  lest  the  manitou  become 
enraged. 

Anthony  then  hunched  himself  into  the 
fanatical  pose  of  an  inspired  medicine-man. 
Because  he  was  a  capital  mimic,  as  most  singers 
are,  his  words  rang  out  in  the  same  raving  tones 
their  own  magician  might  have  used. 

Ouasicoude  and  Narrhetoba  paused  thunder- 
struck. They  thought  the  manitou  had  thrown 
his  mantle  of  sorcery  over  these  aliens.  They 
fell  on  their  faces  and  did  obeisance  to  the 
waterfall.  Aquipaguetin  was  not  so  sure  of  the 

divine  nature  of  Anthony's  deed,  but  he  was 

48 


SIX  SIOUX 

awed  in  spite  of  himself  and  lowered  his  club 
and  bent  his  back,  shedding  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

Who  would  profane  a  temple  or  destroy  a 
shrine? 

Certainly  not  Anthony,  who  had  fled  to  it  for 
sanctuary.  The  loveliness  of  the  manitou's 
cascade  and  the  power  of  its  fall  were  as  plain  to 
him  as  to  the  savages.  Why,  then,  should  not 
the  deity  inspire  him  to  prophecy  as  though  he 
were  a  votary? 

He  had  sacrificed  himself  to  make  the  dis- 
covery of  such  useful  natural  features  of  the 
Great  River  as  this  waterfall  might  prove  to  be. 
Let  it  now  reward  him  with  a  new  lease  on  life 
that  he  might  give  his  find  to  the  Empire. 

He  thought  of  the  brook  in  Picardy  and  of  the 
wheels  it  set  to  going  and  he  cried  in  ecstasy  to 
this  current  of  so  much  greater  size: 

"Some  day,  O  laughing  Water,  white  men 
shall  put  a  harness  upon  you  and  drive  you  to 
work  at  turning  a  mill."  His  fancy  set  big 
factories  up  and  down  the  shore.  Yet  his  dream- 
workshops  were  not  as  hugh  as  the  immense 
roller-mills  which  now  stand  in  substantial  piles, 
row  upon  row,  where  once  his  imagination 
builded. 

"Over  these  fertile  lands  of  your  sky-blue 
lakes  shall  spring  up  the  white  man's  wheat." 
It  was  easy  for  him  to  think  of  the  Mississippi 

49 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

shores  dotted  with  farms;  the  valley  conquered 
by  the  plow.  But  he  could  never  have  be- 
lieved it  if  any  one  had  told  him  of  fields  of 
a  thousand  acres  each,  of  traction  plows,  of 
gasolene  reapers,  and  of  steam  threshers;  the 
inventions  and  triumphs  of  the  agricultural 
Northwest. 

"To  you,  O  Miller-manitou,  shall  all  the 
valleys  bring  their  harvests  as  food  to  your 
grindstones."  He  imagined  a  line  of  French 
donkeys  between  panniers  carrying  wheat  to 
the  grinders.  What  would  he  have  thought  of  a 
caterpillar  truck  and  its  trailers? 

"Apprentices  of  genius  shall  teach  you  how 
to  improve  your  hoppers  and  your  stones." 
The  Frenchman  La  Croix,  an  employee  in  the 
early  mills  along  this  site,  proved  to  be,  of  all 
the  clever  workmen,  the  one  who  invented  most 
of  the  superior  processes  which  make  these  mills, 
where  he  studied,  the  models  of  the  industrial 
world. 

"Settlers  shall  crowd  to  your  feet  and  towns 
rise  around  you." 

He  was  thinking  of  the  hamlets  of  Picardy  or 
perhaps  of  something  like  the  metropolis  of 
Amiens.  Of  such  a  capital  as  St.  Paul  or  a 
city  like  Minneapolis  he  had  no  idea. 

"Old  World  gold  shall  be  poured  into  your 
sacrificial  basin." 

One  page  of  statistics  showing  the  annual 

so 


SIX  SIOUX 

income  of  the  modern  mills  would  have  read  to 
him,  as  it  does  to  many  others,  like  a  page  from 
the  log  of  a  Spanish  treasure  ship.  Anthony 
exaggerated  the  power  of  the  falls  and  the 
prosperity  of  the  country  to  the  limit  of  his 
imagination.  That  they  would  finally  both  be 
greater  than  his  prophesy  no  sane  man  of  his 
time  would  have  dared  to  say. 

His  oration  was  having  a  fine  effect  upon  the 
listening  Indians.  He  could  see  that  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye.  He  was  sure  they  would  not 
dare  to  harm  him  now.  Although  they  might 
not  understand  his  words,  the  all-knowing 
manitou  could,  of  course,  and  that  was  enough 
for  them.  As  he  stepped  out  to  join  them  his 
last  words,  impossible  as  they  seemed,  were  of 
practical  business  worth  and  part  of  them  are 
still  official: 

"Then,  O  idle  manitou,  when  you  are  worn 
down  and  flattened  by  the  toil  of  serving  the  race 
which  tamed  you,  men  shall  forget  your  youthful 
beauty  and  your  sacred  title,  a  prosaic  com- 
mercial nation  shall  know  you  only  by  that  name 
with  which  I  now  take  possession  of  you  in  the 
name  of  France — all  persons  here  present  as 
consenting  witnesses.  You,  as  a  busy  miller, 
shall  be  called  for  me  and  for  my  patron  saint 
the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony!" 

Whether  the  explorers  had  done  a  good  day's 
work  in  discovering  the  wheat  lands  and  the 

51 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

water  to  develop  them,  let  the  farmers  and  the 
millers  and  the  cities  of  Minnesota  say. 

Any  one  who  noticed  the  gaily  feathered  foster- 
fathers  and  their  equally  decorated  sons  as  they 
trotted  homeward  toward  the  tepees,  outlined 
in  every  detail  of  feature  and  costume  against  the 
red  northern  sunset,  single  file,  toeing  in,  stone 
clubs  dangling,  could  be  certain  that  a  feast 
was  in  preparation  and  that  he  saw  six  satisfied 
Sioux. 


IV 


HUNTERS  ALL 

A  Chase  of  the  Buffalo  Herds  in  the  Prairie  Tribes  of  Michael  Accau 
— Flight  of  the  Fur  Traders 

ONE  little,  two  little,  three  little  Indians, 
four  little,  five  little,  six  little  Indians, 
seven  little,  eight  little,  nine  little  Indians,  ten 
little  Indian  boys  sat  in  a  bark  tepee  and 
yapped  in  chorus  with  King  Charles  as  Father 
Louis,  holding  up  his  friar's  gown,  exercised 
his  sandaled  feet  and  bare  shanks  at  a  brisk 
pace  up  and  down  in  front  of  them. 

As  he  paused  for  breath,  "  Taketchiabihen?" 
he  demanded ,  ' '  Taketchiabihen  ? ' ' 

The  little  Indians  and  the  dog  shrilled  again 
with  the  same  crass  sounds.  Rubbing  his  ears 
when  he  had  had  enough  of  this  word,  the  friar 
pulled  out  his  note-book  and  jotted  down  some 
letters. 

Anthony  had  chanced  to  see  this  performance 
as  he  came  to  the  door  flap.  His  eyebrows  and 
dimples,  his  curls  and  teeth  were  a  whole  page 

5  S3 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

of  question  marks  and  exclamation  points. 
Pere  Louis  answered  him  as  though  he  had 
spoken :  "I  am  making  a  dictionary  of  the  Sioux 
language.  This  is  the  word  for  run"  and  he 
showed  the  unspellable  and  unpronounceable 
yelp  with  which  the  children  had  answered  his 
hiccoughing,  "What  is  this?" 

As  the  friar  mopped  his  forehead  Anthony's 
brows  came  down  and  his  smile  widened. 
"  How  did  you  manage  to  get  them  to  help  you?" 
he  inquired. 

Father  Louis  sighed  as  he  explained:  "When 
the  mothers  saw  me  use  my  razor  they  decided 
that  the  steel  edge  would  shave  the  heads  of  the 
boys  better  than  the  sharp  hot  stones  they 
had  always  used  for  that  purpose.  I  am  not 
allowed  my  dinner  until  I  tonsure  these  fledgling 
braves  all  around  their  scalp-locks.  In  my 
turn  I  will  not  shave  them  until  they 
tell  me  some  new  words.  By  reciprocity, 
then,  does  the  dictionary  grow.  Some  day  I 
may  be  able  to  converse  in  the  language  of  the 
Sioux.  I  can  already  understand  something  of 
what  will  be  said  to  me  by  the  gentleman 
yonder."  He  indicated  a  warped  red  thief  who 
had  put  a  pair  of  wretched  legs  through  the 
armholes  of  the  friar's  elegant  chasuble  and  was 
wearing  it  upside  down.  It  was  fastened  com- 
fortably in  this  position  by  a  pair  of  suspenders 
made  of  the  Franciscan  cord. 

54 


HUNTERS  ALL 

Anthony  was  scandalized.  But  Father  Louis 
had  become  resigned  to  slight  mishaps  like  stolen 
clothes ;  too  many  worse  things  had  happened  in 
the  three  months  of  his  captivity. 

He  led  Anthony  to  another  irregular  hut,  where 
the  boy  was  placed  side  by  side  with  the  over- 
dressed person  in  the  semi-religious  style  of 
suit.  The  friar  was  needed  to  baptize  a  sick 
papoose.  The  Pere  Louis'  tolerance  and  sense 
of  duty  so  affected  Anthony  that  his  awkward 
arms  were  very  gentle.  He  was  filled  with  pity 
and  quite  forgot  the  grotesque  figure  beside  him 
in  helping  the  tiny  dying  creature  under  his 
hands.  He  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
object  when  the  grateful  friar  named  the  child 
Antoinette  in  honor  of  her  pale-face  godfather. 

Father  Louis  went  promptly  to  the  next  busi- 
ness in  hand,  "Do  you,  Anthony,  please  keep 
the  children  out  of  mischief  for  a  minute  while  I 
pack,"  he  said.  Anthony,  half  crying  in  sorrow 
for  the  expiring  child  and  half  laughing  in 
disgust  at  the  living  ones,  got  his  pocket  compass. 
The  magnetic  needle  was  the  one  thing  that 
scared  the  little  Indians  into  decent  behavior. 
Their  fathers  had  told  them  it  was  a  magic  spirit 
which  guided  the  white  men  over  lands  where  no 
trails  led.  All  the  Sioux,  large  and  small,  quaked 
before  its  quivering  point. 

By  its  threat  the  meddlesome  hands  were 
warned  away  from  the  friar's  sleeves  whose 

55 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

pocket  cuffs  were  the  only  trunks  he  carried. 
He  was  going  with  Anthony  to  join  a  concourse 
of  the  Sioux  hunters  setting  out  in  pursuit  of 
buffalo. 

News  that  the  migrating  herds  were  corning 
their  way  had  set  the  Indians,  now  very  short 
of  food,  into  a  frenzy  of  preparation.  Away 
they  all  went  in  a  bedlam,  men  and  women, 
children  and  dogs,  to  the  shores  of  the  Great 
River,  where  they  rioted  in  the  camps  by  night 
and  chased  the  buffalo  on  the  outlying  plains 
by  day. 

Every  woman  had  her  own  pottery  cooking- 
vessel.  Savory  stew  was  served  at  any  hour 
in  the  twenty-four.  Surplus  meat  was  dried  in 
the  smoke  of  her  smudges  as  she  " jerked"  it 
for  future  use. 

Each  child  took  part  in  this  annual  event. 
The  tenth  little  Indian,  the  smallest  hunter  that 
ever  stood  in  moccasins,  had  his  own  arrows 
and  a  buffalo  calf  for  practice. 

Pelts  piled  up  like  bales.  Accau  counted  them 
by  dozens. 

If  any  one  had  told  Anthony  that  in  the 
beginning  of  the  twentieth  century  a  North 
American  Indian  of  the  Carlisle  School  would 
hold  the  world's  record  for  all-around  athletic 
prowess  he  certainly  would  have  nodded  that 
he  believed  it.  "Day  after  day,"  he  said,  "the 
lithe  Narrhetoba,  with  a  single  bow,  set  his 

56 


HUNTERS  ALL 

nimble  feet  to  the  sport  of  running  down  a 
buffalo  and  his  deft  hands  to  the  game  of  slaying 
it  by  means  of  a  stone-tipped  arrow.  That  is 
more  than  I  can  do." 

It  was  too  easy  for  that  active  chieftain.  He 
was  bored  with  the  old-fashioned  exercise.  He 
longed  for  the  white  man's  steel  and  the  new 
sensations  to  come  in  using  a  gun. 

The  friar  and  Anthony  proposed  to  him, 
"Allow  us  to  take  a  canoe  and  go  down  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Wisconsin  in  search  of  the  traders 
the  Sieur  La  Salle  had  promised  to  send  after 
us."  Both  Narrhetoba  and  Ouasicoude  agreed 
to  do  this.  So  Anthony  and  Peire  Louis  slipped 
quietly  away. 

Accau  stayed  as  hostage.  He  had  a  faint  hope 
of  retrieving  some  of  his  goods  in  the  possession 
of  these  people,  or,  what  was  better,  to  get  in 
place  of  his  trinkets  a  cargo  of  buffalo-skins. 
His  business  eye  saw  the  pelts  growing  in  value 
during  the  hunt.  Even  the  littlest  Indian's  calf- 
skin would  be  worth  money  if  he  caught  it.  And 
the  bereaved  parent  who  had  shed  the  chasuble 
but  kept  the  handy  Franciscan  cord  acquired  a 
sumptuous  collection  which  Accau  coveted. 

"The  capitals  of  Europe  are  clamoring  for 
pelts  from  the  New  World.  The  princes  and 
nobility  of  civilization  admire  the  soft  skins 
with  which  savages  adorned  themselves,"  he 
repeated  over  and  over. 

57 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

"The  fur  trade  of  the  colonies  promised  to 
make  the  mother  country  rich.  Ever  since  those 
daring  young  adventurers,  the  Sieurs  De  Radis- 
son  and  Groseilliers,  plunged  into  the  north- 
western wilds  in  1654  and  at  the  end  of  two 
years  came  out  again  in  spectacular  parade  with 
three  hundred  Algonquins  and  sixty  canoes, 
bringing  forty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  pelts, 
all  fortune-hunters  had  been  eager  to  do  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind." 

Those  first  successful  Frenchmen  arranged  a 
business  alliance  with  some  Englishmen  and 
became  the  promoters  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company,  which  had  immense  influence  in  the 
early  times  and  which  to-day  still  buys  furs 
of  the  Indians  and  sells  them  in  the  courts  of 
kings. 

Other  companies  were  organized  and  the  in- 
dustry thrived.  St.  Louis  on  the  Mississippi 
finally  came  to  be  the  center  of  a  fur  trade 
carrying  on  one  of  those  big  businesses  which  are 
the  pride  of  the  United  States. 

Private  speculators  went  into  the  trade  with 
zest.  Almost  any  person  who  had  capital 
'enough  to  buy  a  canoe,  arm  and  munitions, 
supplies,  cutlery  and  beads,  would  outfit  a 
coureur  de  bois  and  encourage  him  to  try  his 
luck. 

Almost  half  of  these  voyageurs  perished  in  the 
wilderness.  Romance,  adventure,  freedom,  li- 

58 


HUNTERS  ALL 

cense,  and  wealth  were  the  bait  to  lure  them. 
Panthers,  Indians  , snakes,  malaria,  and  rapids 
were  the  traps  that  caught  them. 

Accau  liked  the  trader's  life  and  as  long  as  he 
could  stay  by  the  fruits  of  this  Sioux  hunt  he 
meant  to  do  so.  His  employer,  the  Sieur  La 
Salle,  expected  the  buffalo  herds  to  pay  the 
expenses  of  settling  and  developing  the  valley 
of  the  Great  River.  Accau  kept  near  the  front 
of  the  chase,  and  because  they  were  without 
definite  plans  it  was  not  hard  to  lead  the  Sioux 
with  more  and  more  rapidity  down  the  banks 
of  the  river  in  the  direction  the  friar  and  An- 
thony had  taken  and  toward  the  spot  where 
the  traders  might  appear. 

A  pageant  now  took  possession  of  the  upper 
Mississippi.  As  it  passed  the  hidden  creatures 
of  the  wild  watched  with  bright,  frightened  eyes 
the  enemies  who  were  to  affect  so  powerfully  all 
those  species  in  furry  clothes. 

First  came  Father  Louis  Hennepin  and  An- 
thony Auguelle,  the  Picard  du  Gay.  They  held 
the  key  to  the  northwest  regions.  Maps  and 
observations,  a  new  language  and  the  right  of 
discovery  were  all  theirs. 

Next,  close  on  their  trail,  silently  and  secretly, 
sneaked  old  Aquipaguetin  and  ten  of  his  warriors. 
They  had  the  nine  points  which  possession  gives. 
They  would  not  let  any  prisoners  escape,  no 
matter  how  reasonable  their  excuses  might 

59 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

sound.  No  strangers  should  get  away  to  tell  the 
white  race  the  secrets  of  the  Sioux. 

Far  out  of  sight  behind  the  warriors  the 
hunting  party,  lured  by  King  Charles's  antics 
and  Accau's  purpose,  straggled  along  the  shore. 
A  fortune  in  pelts  was  carelessly  dragging  in 
their  untidy  baggage. 

Last  of  all  there  came  swiftly  down  the  stream 
a  third  canoe.  Its  appearance  was  one  of  those 
accidents  which  change  the  course  of  large 
events.  In  it  were  two  Indian  guides,  a  French 
gentleman  and  four  of  his  followers. 

The  gentleman  was  the  Sieur  DuLuth.  He 
was  an  agent  for  one  of  the  Canadian  fur  com- 
panies and  had  been  spending  a  year  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  west  end  of  Lake  Superior. 
He  had  planted  the  French  arms  in  the  waters 
where  the  first  tributaries  of  the  Mississippi  rise 
and  had  claimed  much  new  soil  and  found  many 
haunts  of  small  fur-bearing  animals. 

He  was  now  roving  south  by  way  of  the  St. 
Croix  River.  It  emptied  into  a  magnificent 
stream,  which  he  guessed  must  be  the  fabled 
Father  of  Waters.  He  stopped  there  to  gossip 
with  the  squaws  he  saw.  They  told  him  that 
on  this  Great  River  some  white  men,  prisoners 
of  the  Sioux,  were  only  two  days  distant. 

Sieur  DuLuth  knew  the  uncertain  temper  of 
the  Sioux.  Indeed  it  has  never  changed.  There 

are  old  men  now  living  on  the  shore  where  the 

60 


HUNTERS  ALL 

Sieur  DuLuth  stood  who  can  tell  of  their  own 
youthful  part  in  the  Sioux  wars  of  the  i86o's 
when  the  Minnesota  tribes  behaved  very  much 
as  Anthony  saw  them  do. 

"We  must  go  to  the  rescue  of  these  white 
men,"  the  Sieur  DuLuth  had  promptly  decided, 
"  and  join  forces  with  them.  Together  we  will  be 
able  to  interest  the  Indians  in  trading  and  so 
persuade  them  to  make  treaties." 

In  the  mean  time,  Anthony  and  the  friar  were 
in  doleful  plight.  They  had  no  stores.  Ten 
charges  of  powder  were  their  only  ammunition. 
They  planned  to  keep  it  for  self-defense.  In- 
stead of  shooting  game,  they  snared  fish,  cap- 
tured turtles,  chased  woodchuck.  Hunger  was 
a  constant  companion.  Wild  fruits,  of  un- 
known species,  made  them  ill.  The  hope  of 
meeting  the  traders  buoyed  them.  They  bore 
each  hardship  as  though  it  had  been  a  blessing 
and  went  bravely  on. 

Little  thinking  that  some  one  was  all  this 
time  steadily  following  his  course,  coming  nearer 
and  nearer,  Anthony  seldom  looked  back. 

One  day  he  glanced  up  from  the  cooking  of  a 
scanty  dinner.  Peering  at  him  over  the  edge 
of  the  bank  were  the  eyes  of  an  Indian.  At 
least  he  thought  it  was  an  Indian,  but  when  he 
went  to  look  he  found  nothing. 

At  supper-time,  farther  down  the  stream,  he 

had  the  uncanny  feeling  of  being  watched.    He 

61 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

advanced  slowly  toward  the  brink.  The  dismay 
in  his  face  was  reflected  by  the  friar,  for  Aquipa- 
guetin  rose  up  and  confronted  them.  He  should 
have  been  hundreds  of  miles  away.  Every  little 
hair  on  Anthony's  body  stirred  separately  as  he 
wondered  how  long  that  revengeful  savage  had 
been  within  club-throwing  distance. 

With  a  single  gesture  the  chief  bade  them 
stand  still.  A  stone  club  and  evil  scowl  em- 
phasized his  meaning.  A  painted  warrior  came 
over  the  river's  bank  and  stood  beside  him.  The 
warrior  wore  a  tremendous  bonnet.  It  stuck  gay 
feathers  aloft  and  dangled  them  all  the  way  to 
the  ground.  Beads  by  the  dozen,  from  Accau's 
precious  stores,  made  him  twinkle  like  a  jeweler's 
window.  He  was  fully  armed.  Another  in 
similar  garb  came  and  joined  the  two;  then 
another  and  another. 

The  explorers  had  no  inkling  of  what  these 
Indians  meant  to  do.  It  was  hard  for  Anthony 
to  keep  a  cool  and  indifferent  attitude  until 
ten  savages  in  gorgeous  array  had  slowly  ap- 
peared and  formed  themselves  into  a  back- 
ground for  Aquipaguetin. 

They  were  dressed  for  some  special  occasion. 
Indians  are  masters  of  the  language  of  signs. 
The  old  chief,  by  a  few  pointings  here  and  there 
and  a  motion  or  two,  gave  them  to  understand 
that  he  was  on  his  way  down  the  river  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Wisconsin. 

62 


HUNTERS  ALL 

"Are  you  on  your  way  to  meet  the  traders?" 
asked  the  friar  in  a  sentence  which  he  thought 
excellent  Sioux. 

Aquipaguetin  was. 

"You  wily  old  strategist!"  cried  Anthony. 
"If  the  traders  come  you  want  to  get  first 
choice  of  their  goods.  If  they  don't  come  you 
will  be  ahead  of  us  on  the  river  to  cut  off  our 
escape:  How  I  hate  you!" 

All  the  warriors  nodded  solemnly  at  Anthony. 
What  a  pity  they  didn't  understand  his  language ! 

They  circled  around  to  show  the  white  men 
how  many  and  strong  they  were.  The  chief  re- 
peated his  command  for  the  Frenchmen  not  to 
follow  him  and  hurried  away.  All  the  warriors 
trailed  after  him. 

Anthony  and  the  friar  went  at  breakneck 
speed  in  the  opposite  direction  to  protect  them- 
selves by  again  joining  the  hunting  party.  How 
utterly  downcast  they  would  have  been  could 
they  have  known  that  the  Sieur  La  Salle's 
traders  would  never  keep  the  tryst  on  which  all 
the  captives'  thoughts  were  fixed. 

For  that  fort  had  come  to  extremity.  No 
sooner  had  the  commandant  gone  for  food  and 
munitions  to  sustain  them  than  the  dozen 
knaves  in  the  stockade,  who  outnumbered  the 
honest  men,  had  mutinied.  They  burned  the 
fort,  stole  all  the  valuables  they  could  carry. 
Everything  else  they  threw  into  the  river. 

63 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

The  peaceful  Indians  camped  round  about  the 
fort  had  been  massacred  by  warlike  tribes  and 
their  hamlets  burned.  Desolation  reigned. 

Where  now  the  beautiful  American  city  of 
Peoria  stands,  there  were  only  ashes,  bones, 
and  the  memory  of  the  ill-starred  Fort  Creve- 
cceur. 

Accau  became  alarmed  when  he  found  out  that 
Aquipaguetin  had  also  gone  down  the  river.  He 
led  the  hunting  party  more  rapidly  in  that 
direction  and  constantly  watched  for  his  friends. 

Great  was  his  relief  to  see  them  returning. 
But  when  he  could  discover  no  traders  with  them 
he  was  filled  with  foreboding. 

As  Anthony  and  the  friar  paddled  up  to  the 
camp  it  looked  like  home  to  them.  The  summer 
sky,  the  sweet  west  wind,  the  billowing  plain, 
the  bronze  hunters,  the  odor  of  the  squaws' 
cooking-pots,  the  voices  of  children  were  all 
sources  of  delight. 

At  their  approach  the  cheerful  racket  died 
down;  the  tribe  stood  still;  all  interest  focused 
in  one  question.  "Where  are  the  traders?" 
The  friar  shook  his  head;  an  ominous  silence 
followed.  King  Charles  ran  forward  barking 
welcome.  No  one  else  was  glad  to  see  them. 

Anthony  begged :  "We  are  hungry.  Give  us 
food." 

"Where  are  the  traders?"  came  the  sullen 
chorus. 

64 


HUNTERS  ALL 

"We  did  not  find  them,"  was  Pere  Lotus' 
apology. 

Narrhetoba's  brow  grew  dark.  Ouasicoude's 
silence  was  appalling. 

At  this  unhappy  moment  who  should  whirl 
round  a  bend  in  full  sight  of  the  hunters  but  the 
Nemesis,  Aquipaguetin ! 

In  the  few  days  that  it  had  taken  Anthony 
and  the  friar  to  reach  the  camp,  the  old  chief, 
taxing  to  the  utmost  those  famous  paddle 
muscles  of  his  warriors,  had  gone  down  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Wisconsin,  found  no  traders, 
turned  himself  about  and  came  back  again  at 
double  speed  in  rage  supreme. 

He  leaped  ashore.  The  armed  force  of  his 
warriors  filed  in  fierce  array  on  his  heels. 

' '  White  men  are  liars !"  he  thundered.  "There 
are  no  traders!" 

The  warriors,  with  long  groans,  burst  into  tears. 

The  hunters  caught  up  their  weapons.  They 
rushed  at  the  Frenchmen.  Squaws  stirred  their 
fires — something  more  interesting  than  food 
was  promised  for  a  roasting.  The  ten  little 
Indians  hopped  up  and  down  with  joy  at  the 
prospect  of  savage  sport. 

The  story  of  the  northern  Mississippi,  all  the 
hard-won  knowledge  of  its  course,  might  have 
been  blotted  out  then  and  there.  Three  lives 
could  have  vanished  in  faggot  smoke  and  left 
no  trace. 

65 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

But  the  Sieur  DuLuth  was  energetic  with  his 
paddles  also.  The  Sioux  too  often  meant 
mischief.  The  Frenchmen  might  need  him. 
White  men  who  met  Sioux  generally  did  require 
help. 

In  the  midst  of  the  powwow — for  Indians  can 
seldom  do  anything  without  a  powwow — the 
third  canoe  appeared  upon  the  river. 

How  like  guardian  angels  the  weather-beaten 
faces  of  the  new-comers  looked  to  the  doomed 
men;  how  much  sweeter  than  any  music  was  the 
Sieur  DuLuth's  shout:  "We  are  traders!  Friends 
to  the  red  men  and  friends  to  the  white!" 

The  camp  exploded  with  glee.  Everybody, 
even  Aquipaguetin,  scrambled  to  the  water's 
edge.  DuLuth  and  his  men  were  pulled  ashore 
and  embraced  ecstatically.  Greedy  eyes  feasted 
on  his  bulging  stores.  How  they  loved  him! 
What  affection  they  had  for  all  white  men! 

They  underwent  violent  reaction.  "Get  out 
the  peace-pipes,"  was  one  command.  "Bring 
on  a  feast,"  was  another. 

To  the  savages  gloating  over  the  prospect  of 
bartering  their  buffalo-skins  for  weapons  and 
trinkets  it  was  an  unimportant  detail  that  these 
two  parties  of  Frenchmen  to  whom  New  France 
looked  for  the  establishment  of  a  vast  business 
should  be  meeting  for  the  first  time. 

Traders  had  been  promised ;  traders  had  come : 
that  was  enough  for  them. 

66 


HUNTERS  ALL 

All  the  little  Indians  and  a  hundred  big  ones 
hastened  to  show  their  gratitude.  Friendship 
between  the  two  races  was  established  straight- 
way. Ouasicoude  uttered  the  ultimatum  of  the 
Sioux:  "The  Frenchmen  are  welcome  to  all  the 
fur  they  can  carry.  We  will  give  them  much 
food.  They  may  go  when  they  please  and  where 
they  like.  They  are  free!" 


MANY  MOUTHS 

Shooting  Big  Game  for  the  Servants  of  the  King  under  Robert  Cavelier 
de  La  Salle— Fit  Gifts  for  a  Kong. 

GGS!"  cried  Anthony,  "Eggs!"  He  licked 
his  lips.  "I  have  not  tasted  an  egg  for  a 
long  time,"  and  he  smiled  his  gayest  at  an  Indian 
who  was  carrying  in  both  hands  a  dish  hastily 
made  from  a  palmetto  leaf. 

The  savage  was  proud  of  his  find  and  a  little 
more  excited  than  even  fresh  eggs  seemed  to 
warrant.  But  then  he  was  a  southern  Indian 
and  they  are  always  more  emotional  than  north- 
ern ones.  He  was  a  present  from  some  Indian 
village  lately  visited  by  this  party  of  the  Sieur 
La  Salle' s  with  whom  Anthony  was  now  ex- 
ploring and  he  may  have  wanted  to  call  attention 
to  himself  as  a  useful  and  important  person. 

"They  look  rather  queer,"  Anthony  touched 
them  with  an  inquiring  finger;  "some  sort  of 
wild  hen  may  have  laid  them.  They  look 
something  like  turtle  eggs." 

68 


MANY  MOUTHS 

"No.  Not  turtle,"  the  Indian  was  sure  of 
that.  He  stated  their  name  positively. 

Anthony  had  never  heard  the  word.  He 
called  an  interpreter.  That  worthy  could  pro- 
nounce the  word  which  was  new  to  him  also. 
He  could  explain  at  second  hand  that  it  meant 
a  creature  living  sometimes  on  land  and  some- 
times in  the  water,  very  large  and  dangerous. 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  laughed  Anthony,  "it  would 
not  take  a  very  big  bird  to  lay  those  eggs.  You 
should  see  a  really  large  one  like  an  ostrich. 
Go  bring  another  Indian,  for  I'm  sure  we  do  not 
understand  each  other."  He  put  the  dish  down 
in  the  sand  near  the  camp-fire  as  he  waited. 
Sometimes  it  was  necessary  to  hunt  an  in- 
terpreter to  interpret  the  interpreters. 

It  was  nearly  dinner-time  and  the  whole  of  the 
Sieur  La  Salle's  train,  two  dozen  Frenchmen,  a 
dozen  and  a  half  of  Indians,  ten  squaws  and 
three  papooses  and  a  guide  or  so  hurried  up  to 
stare  hungrily  at  the  palmetto  leaf,  while  the 
owner  of  this  treasure  trove,  in  a  frenzy  of  words, 
tried  to  tell  them  that  a  fierce  manitou  as  big 
as  a  man  and  wicked  enough  to  bite  a  boat  in 
two  had  laid  those  eggs.  They  must  not  be 
eaten. 

This  was  unwelcome  news  to  the  cook,  to 
whom  the  beautiful  southern  reaches  of  the 
Great  River  were  not  yielding  as  much  foodstuff 
as  she  needed  for  her  table. 

6  69 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Sieur  La  Salle  had  a  cool,  scientific  interest  in 
every  form  of  life.  He  listened  carefully  to  the 
Indian  because  he  wanted  to  learn  all  he  could 
of  real  and  fancied  fauna. 

Henry  Tonty,  a  captain  and  the  Sieur  La 
Salle's  most  devoted  aide,  was  second  in  com- 
mand. He  watched  with  much  amusement. 
Fantastic  notions  such  as  Indians  delight  in 
often  caught  his  ready  sympathy. 

And  the  priest  of  the  expedition,  Father 
Membre,  felt  it  his  duty  to  keep  his  ears  open 
when  a  heathen  manitou  was  mentioned. 

From  the  leader  down  to  the  tiniest  papoose 
anything  that  had  to  do  with  meals  claimed  full 
attention. 

How  long  the  talk  might  have  lasted  it  would 
be  hard  to  tell  had  not  Mother  Nature  herself 
chosen  this  moment  to  hatch  those  eggs.  Warm 
sand  and  sunshine  and  fire  were  her  helpers. 
This  was  what  the  Indian  wished.  He  was  more 
than  satisfied  at  the  astonishment  of  the  north- 
erners when  there  emerged,  not  fledglings,  but 
squirming  lizards. 

"El-lagarto!"  cried  Tonty  in  Spanish.  "Ha! 
They  are  crocodiles.  Destroy  them." 

The  Father  laughed  with  contempt,  "We  need 
not  be  afraid  of  such  tiny  crocodiles,  nor  of  the 
manitou  they  breed." 

As  Anthony  recoiled  from  the  wriggling  mites 
he  knew  by  the  stirring  of  his  curls  that  the 

70 


MANY  MOUTHS 

Indian  might  be  justified  in  his  dread  of  the 
manitou. 

The  Sieur  La  Salle  gave  the  Indian  a  special 
present  for  the  timeliness  of  his  warning  and 
issued  the  command,  "No  swimming  in  the 
bayous,  no  jumping  from  boats  to  floating  logs, 
no  paddle  hands  trailing  in  the  water." 

Anthony  was  filled  with  creeping  nerves.  He 
could  not  eat  the  ration  doled  out  to  him  at  the 
dinner,  which  did  not  include  eggs.  He  shook 
and  shook,  partly  with  the  chill  which  precedes 
the  fever  of  malaria  and  partly  with  the  shiver 
the  reptiles  gave  him. 

But  he  was  normal  again  when  the  full  moon 
came  shining  through  the  moss-draped  branches 
of  the  live-oaks.  The  odor  of  jessamine,  the 
song  of  the  mocking-bird,  the  silver  water  rolling 
past,  the  easy  bed  of  shore  grass,  the  vespers 
of  the  peeper  frogs,  the  altar  candles  of  the  fire- 
flies, all  combined  to  make  him  love  the  south- 
land and  to  wonder  why  Canadians  stayed  in 
ice-bound  Canada  when  France  could  give  them 
homes  in  such  balmy  lands  as  this. 

The  Sieur  La  Salle,  who  was  leading  them  down 
the  river,  was  young,  handsome,  educated,  titled, 
and  rich.  Honors  and  pleasures  were  at  his 
hand  if  he  lived  in  his  native  country;  but  he 
had  one  of  those  brave  hearts  which  desired  to 
sacrifice  itself  for  France  in  the  front  trenches 
of  the  New  World. 

71 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

More  than  any  other  one  discovery  France 
felt  that  she  needed  to  have  a  western  water 
route  to  the  trade  of  the  Orient  mapped  out. 
Sieur  La  Salle  had  undertaken  to  find  some 
northwest  passage  through  this  new  American 
continent  which  barred  the  way.  The  king  gave 
him  a  seigniory  on  the  Saint  Lawrence  River. 
It  was  named  La  Chine  to  remind  him  of  his 
ambition  to  achieve  a  short  cut  to  China.  He 
explored  far  and  near. 

He  finally  decided  from  what  he  heard  through 
the  Indians  that  a  man  in  a  canoe,  with  a  few 
portages,  could  go  from  one  side  of  the  con- 
tinent to  the  other  by  water.  Starting  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Saint  Lawrence  on  the  Atlantic, 
sailing  through  the  Great  Lakes,  down  any  one  of 
several  tributaries  to  the  Mississippi,  then  up  the 
Missouri,  then  into  the  La  Platte,  from  its  head- 
waters to  those  of  the  Colorado,  down  to  the  Gulf 
of  California,  he  could  at  last  dip  into  the  Pacific. 
That  route  is  still  open,  but  there  had  never  been 
a  deep  waterway  for  ocean-going  ships  until  the 
Panama  Canal  was  begun  by  the  French  in  1880 
and  completed  by  the  United  States  in  1914.  So 
the  Sieur  La  Salle  hunted  in  vain. 

When  legends  of  the  Mississippi  began  to 
reach  him  he  hoped  that  the  great  sea  into  which 
it  was  said  to  empty  might  be  the  Pacific.  The 
Sieur  Joliet's  voyage  proved  that  it  had  some 
southern  instead  of  a  western  outlet. 

72 


MANY  MOUTHS 

The  Sieur  Joliet's  maps,  the  Pere  Mar- 
quette's  diary,  Friar  Hennepin's  descriptions, 
Accau's  business  reports,  the  Sieur  DuLuth's 
estimate  of  fur-bearing  animals,  all  combined  to 
interest  the  Empire  in  developing  the  Great 
River  valley.  The  Sieur  La  Salle  received  most 
of  the  help  he  asked  for  when  he  began  to  plan  a 
French  port  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  which 
could  be  open  to  traffic  all  the  year  round  and 
could  afford  an  ocean  carry  for  the  products  of 
the  valley. 

At  Niagara  he  built  a  ship  called  the  Griff  en, 
the  first  to  sail  the  Great  Lakes,  but  it  was  lost 
before  it  could  get  into  the  ocean  to  go  to  the 
Mississippi's  mouth.  Another  ship  coming  to 
him  from  France  went  down  in  the  Saint 
Lawrence.  These  huge  misfortunes  forced  him 
to  abandon  the  idea  of  deep-water  vessels  for 
his  first  voyage  on  the  Mississippi.  He  used  the 
only  things  he  could  get — the  same  old  birch- 
bark  canoes  which  the  natives  had  always  had. 
They  could  not  carry  the  profitable  cargoes  of 
the  bigger  ships,  but  they  might  serve  to  find  a 
port. 

In  them,  partly  because  they  were  fitted  to 
the  river  and  partly  because  they  were  manned 
by  Indians  who  understood  their  navigation,  the 
Sieur  La  Salle  and  his  retinue  were  now  making 
a  happy  voyage.  They  had  come  down  by  way 
of  the  Illinois  River,  offering  friendship  to  the 

73 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

hospitable  Indian  villages  and  scaring  the  hostile 
ones  into  allegiance  by  a  fine  show  of  state. 

On  this  particular  day  they  were  far  below  the 
last  point  touched  by  the  Sieur  Joliet,  and  An- 
thony's gray  eyes  grew  wider  and  wider  as  he 
viewed  the  semi-tropical  scenes  and  marveled 
at  the  ever-broadening  expanse  of  the  river  so 
truly  great. 

Soon  they  came  to  a  place  where  the  main 
stream  divided  into  three.  The  party  separated ; 
several  boats  for  each  of  the  new  currents  would 
speed  the  journey's  end.  Sieur  La  Salle  took  the 
right-hand  one.  Perhaps  he  was  hoping  against 
hope  for  some  western  outlet. 

When  the  fleet  came  together  again  it  was 
upon  salt  water.  Blue,  sparkling,  and  invigorat- 
ing, the  water  and  the  air  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico 
filled  them  with  joy. 

"Past  this  gulf  the  Spanish  galleons  go  back 
to  the  Old  World  heavily  laden  with  the  gold 
of  their  new  lands.  From  this  port  we  can  ship 
cargoes  of  furs  almost  as  valuable  as  theirs. 
Nearly  a  century  and  a  half  ago  the  Spaniards 
saw  this  region,  but  they  have  never  fortified  nor 
possessed  it,"  said  the  Sieur  La  Salle  to  his 
officers.  "We  will  now  take  it  under  the  pro- 
tection of  our  Empire." 

Jubilant  over  their  luck,  they  began  to  prepare 
for  a  formal  claim. 

During  the  bustle  an  Indian  signaled  to 

74 


MANY  MOUTHS 

Anthony  and  he  withdrew  to  let  the  savage 
whisper  in  his  ear,  "  Do  you  remember  the  eggs?" 

Anthony  grimaced  to  show  that  he  did. 

"El-lagarto,"  repeated  the  Indian  carefully. 
He  liked  the  Spanish  word.  "I  can  show  you 
one." 

"I'm  not  sure  I  want  to  see  one — but — yes — 
of  course  I  do,"  and  Anthony  followed  his 
guide. 

On  a  little  rise  of  muddy  ground  was  a  jumble 
of  driftwood  and  grass.  The  Indian  mounted 
it  with  Anthony  at  his  heels.  He  peered  over 
a  log  and,  bobbing  his  head  with  assurance, 
pointed  his  finger  and  made  way  for  his  com- 
panion to  see.  Anthony  stuck  his  head  forward 
and  almost  into  the  open  maw  of  the  most  horrid 
creature  on  earth — two  immense  jaws  wide 
open — double  rows  of  long  white  fangs — • 

He  forgot  that  he  was  now  grown  up.  He 
gave  the  shriek  after  shriek  of  a  scared  little  boy 
and,  flouncing  backward,  went  tumbling  down 
the  knoll  in  a  madness  of  haste. 

The  conference  was  stopped.  All  crowded 
round  him  in  consternation.  He  was  too  shaken 
to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  ' '  What's  the  matter? ' ' 
was  the  demand. 

"El-lagarto,"  explained  the  Indian,  charmed 
with  this  second  sensation  he  had  produced. 

"Did  you  kill  it,  Tony?"  asked  the  Sieur 
La  Salle. 

75 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

"No,"  confessed  Anthony.  "The  instant  I 
looked  at  it,  it  opened  the  biggest  mouth  ever 
seen  and  almost  bit  my  head  off." 

"I  will  shoot  it,"  and  Tonty  picked  up  his 
firearms;  "we don't  want  one  so  near  the  camp." 

"It  has  already  been  dead  for  a  very  long 
time,"  began  the  Indian;  "I  myself  tied  its 
mouth  open  with  a  thong — " 

As  this  fact  brought  the  laughter  of  his  peers, 
Anthony  flew  into  a  rage  and  plunged  at  the 
Indian  with  both  fists  clenched.  Nothing  would 
have  pleased  the  rank  and  file  of  soldiers  nor  the 
savage  boatmen  better  than  a  fight  in  the  ring 
they  formed.  But  the  officers  pulled  Anthony 
off  the  prostrate,  bewildered  Indian,  who  could 
not  understand  the  pain  of  du  Gay's  wounded 
vanity. 

The  poor  savage  seriously  explained  to  all  the 
interested  circle:  "When  the  dead  el-lagartoes 
are  quite — quite — ripe — it  is  the  custom  of  my 
people  to  pluck  out  the  elegant  teeth  and  to  make 
ourselves  necklaces.  Why  should  the  white 
man  be  so  noisy  about  that?" 

Why  indeed? 

Anthony  had  so  exhausted  his  emotions  that 
he  was  very  quiet  and  only  half  appreciative  as 
he  held  his  place  in  the  group  who  were  ready 
for  the  ceremony  of  taking  possession  of  a 
kingdom. 

To  represent  the  Church,  the  Father  Membre 

76 


MANY  MOUTHS 

set  up  a  cross  and  buried  near  it  a  lead  plate 
bearing  the  arms  of  France.  For  the  Empire  the 
Sieur  La  Salle  erected  a  column  with  the  emblem 
of  France  in  full  view.  These  words  were  carved 
in  the  wood :  ' '  Louis  Le  Grand,  Roy  de  France  et 
de  Narvarre,  regne,  la  Neuvieme  Avril  1682." 

The  Indians,  in  the  brightest  of  feathers  and 
the  dullest  of  faces,  formed  a  background  for  the 
Father  Membre,  who  chanted  the  Te  Deum. 
Anthony  led  the  hymns.  Then  the  Sieur  La 
Salle  in  legal  speech  took  possession  of  all  the 
lands  drained  by  the  Mississippi  and  its  tribu- 
taries from  the  Alleghanies  in  the  east  to  the 
unknown  mountains  in  the  west,  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  the  Gulf.  The  Frenchmen  lined  up 
in  military  formation  and  fired  a  salute  to  the 
king's  new  dominion.  It  was  named  Louisiana, 
for  his  Majesty. 

Think  how  bold  a  spirit  a  man  must  have  had 
to  make  such  a  claim ;  think  what  a  magnificent 
present  from  a  subject  to  his  ruler ;  think  of  the 
changes  which  have  happened  in  that  vast 
domain ! 

For  eighty  years  the  rustic  standard  held 
Louisiana.  During  those  days  whenever  a 
wandering  missionary  would  meet  a  soldier  of 
fortune  in  a  native  village  they  would  join  with 
some  coureur  de  bois  to  start  a  trading  post. 
Many  dotted  the  valley.  To  civilize  his  new 

77 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

country  his  Majesty  sent  over  ship-loads  of 
"king's  maids,"  whom  the  priests  married  to 
the  soldiers  and  coureurs  de  bois.  Houses  took 
the  places  of  tepees,  the  tiny  villages  grew  to 
towns,  French  habits  of  living  and  gentle  ideals 
of  courtesy  colored  midwestern  life  with  a 
romance  which  has  never  faded. 

Then  the  mother  country,  politically  harassed, 
ceded  Louisiana  west  of  the  Mississippi  to 
Spain.  In  another  three  years  the  Highland 
Black  Watch  captured  Fort  Chartres  and  all 
Louisiana  east  of  the  Great  River  went  to 
England.  Old  World  emigrants,  Scotch  and 
Irish  and  what  not,  began  pouring  toward  these 
lands  to  make  themselves  on  the  virgin  soil  into 
something  that  was  not  Spanish  nor  French  nor 
English,  but  a  new  race  called  American.  At  the 
time  of  the  Revolution  they  took  Louisiana 
away  from  England  by  force  of  arms.  The  part 
owned  by  Spain  had  been  ceded  back  to  France, 
and  that  the  Americans  bought  of  Napoleon  in 
1803. 

All  the  world,  even  kings,  love  a  hero,  and  the 
Sieur  La  Salle,  standing  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi  in  1682,  felt  sure  that  in  time  Louis 
XIV  would  reward  him  for  adding  this  valley 
to  the  Empire,  as  indeed  he  did,  not  with  honors 
and  titles,  for  which  the  explorer  cared  nothing, 
but  with  more  men  and  ships  to  develop  the 
resources  of  the  Great  River. 

78 


MANY  MOUTHS 

But  even  in  the  midst  of  the  glory  of  claiming 
such  a  kingdom,  the  little  group  of  adventurers 
complained  of  the  heat  and  the  miasma.  An- 
thony growled  softly:  " I  do  wish  that  explorers 
might  go  north  in  summer  and  south  in  winter 
like  the  birds  and  buffalo.  Last  winter  we  were 
frost-bitten  in  the  ice.  Now  we  are  sweltering 
at  the  outlet  in  the  time  of  year  when  the 
sources  of  the  river  are  pleasant." 

"This  hot,  swampy  land  is  breeding  fever 
among  us.  We  cannot  find  fruits  to  allay  it  nor 
any  wholesome  meat  to  counteract  it  as  we  did 
further  up  the  stream,"  said  Tonty.  ''We  must 
pay  for  our  discoveries  in  physical  discomfort." 

"In  a  word,"  declared  the  Sieur  La  Salle, 
"we  are,  as  you  all  know,  on  the  verge  of 
starvation.  I  have  resolved  of  necessity  to  eat 
the  only  game  this  region  affords.  Anthony,  is 
your  pistol  ready?"  and  he  motioned  to  the 
Indian  who  longed  for  a  necklace.  "  Then  follow 
this  man." 

Poor  Anthony,  rebellion  in  his  long-drawn 
face  and  repugnance  in  every  line  of  his  figure, 
moved  behind  his  guide  along  a  half-submerged 
path.  Soon  they  came  to  a  pile  of  rotted  tree- 
trunks.  Among  them  the  Indian  pointed  out  the 
quarry,  which  would  have  been  quite  invisible  to 
unaccustomed  eyes. 

Swallowing  a  shudder  and  adjusting  his  pis- 
tol, Anthony  determined  to  blot  out  his  former 

79 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

cowardice.  So  intent  was  he  that  he  forgot 
the  command  about  innocent-looking  logs.  He 
stepped  upon  one  to  get  a  better  aim  at  the 
reptile.  His  foot-rest  slipped,  a  flail  hit  him  with 
so  much  force  that  he  might  have  been  driven 
straight  into  the  opening  jaws  of  the  living  log 
had  not  the  wary  Indian  grabbed  his  jerkin  even 
as  he  touched  the  snare  and  yanked  him  away 
at  right  angles,  one  hand  clutching  the  air,  the 
other  tight  on  the  pistol. 

The  sweep  of  the  beast's  tail  was  quicker  than 
the  eye  could  follow,  but  its  body  was  so  clumsily 
built  that  it  needed  several  seconds  to  turn. 
In  that  flash  of  time  Anthony's  pride  rose  above 
fear  and  horror,  and  as  the  brute,  after  missing 
its  kill,  was  sinking  itself  into  the  ooze  he  aimed 
at  one  of  the  wicked  little  eyes  and  banged  away. 

The  first  seen  reptile  had  vanished  as  com- 
pletely as  though  it  had  never  existed.  Anthony's 
shot  was  fatal  to  the  second  one. 

The  Indian  guide's  whoop  of  triumph  brought 
others  to  help  haul  out  the  game  and  prepare  it 
for  roasting.  The  ravenous  crowd  shouted  for 
glee.  This  stuff  could  be  chewed  and  swallowed, 
and  therefore  it  was  food. 

Then  Anthony,  having  found  himself,  went 
back  to  his  superior  officer  whistling  with 
restored  self-confidence.  He  knew  that  many 
more  such  distasteful  meals  would  have  to  be 
provided  ere  they  worked  their  way  up  from  the 

80 


MANY  MOUTHS 

swamp  lands  and  out  of  starvation  into  the  pro- 
ductive regions  and  into  touch  with  the  world. 
"Sieur  La  Salle,"  he  said,  "if  in  the  pursuit  of 
your  duty  to  France  you  have  come  to  such  a 
pass  that  you  must  eat  diabolical  game,  I  can 
shoot  it.  Behold  in  me,  at  your  service,  chief 
high  executioner  to  his  Satanic  Majesty  the 
El-lagarto!" 


VI 


ON  THE   ROCK 

Holding  the  Only  Fortress  of  the  Valley  against  the  Iroquois  for  Henry 
Tonty — An  Owl  Saves  a  Nation 

ANTHONY  frowned  at  the  capable  back  of 
J~\  Henry  Tonty  as  it  mounted  the  steep  trail 
in  front  of  him.  He  wished  that  he  dared  to 
sigh  aloud  to  call  this  energetic  man's  attention 
to  the  fact  that  helpers  sometimes  wearied  and 
that  this  was  one  of  the  times. 

For  Anthony  hated  work.  Common  useful 
labor  tired  him.  "Let  the  Indians  do  it,"  he 
thought.  The  Indians  passed  the  idea  on,  "Let 
the  squaws  do  it." 

But  the  squaws  were  already  over-busy  curing 
furs  and  getting  ready  to  put  in  the  spring  crops. 
So  Tonty  had  decreed  that  Frenchmen  and 
Indians  alike  should  lend  a  hand  at  strengthen- 
ing the  fort  on  top  of  the  Rock  of  the  Illinois. 
It  had  been  hastily  built  in  the  autumn  and  now 
needed  the  finishing  touches. 

Every  Frenchman  wanted  to  be  a  military 

82 


ON  THE  ROCK 

officer  or  a  wandering  coureur  de  bois.  Each 
Indian  preferred  the  life  of  a  hunter  or  a  warrior. 
Yet  here  they  were  all  working  busily  under  a 
commander  who  said  that  they  must  dig  ditches 
or  fell  trees  for  the  mammoth  stockade. 

Now  Tonty  had  an  artificial  iron  hand  to 
take  the  place  of  one  he  had  lost  in  battle.  He 
was  clever,  almost  uncanny,  in  the  use  of  it. 
The  bad  Indians  whom  he  slapped  with  it  and 
the  good  Indians  whom  he  directed  by  its  metal 
point  regarded  it  equally  with  fearsome  rolling 
eyes  as  very  big  medicine. 

Tonty  had  also  an  iron  will.  Every  French- 
man felt  it.  Few  could  go  against  it.  His 
mandates  were  obeyed;  the  fort  improved. 

The  Rock  was  a  fine  spot  for  such  a  defense. 
It  rose  out  of  a  plain  high  above  all  other  land- 
marks. Over  a  hundred  feet  up  in  the  air  its 
almost  flat  top  spread  out  in  an  acre  of  ground 
with  a  running  spring  hidden  in  its  shrubbery. 
On  the  north  the  Illinois  River  flowed  past  its 
base.  Three  sides  dropped  sheer  to  the  plain. 
The  fourth  had  a  difficult  almost  perpendicular 
path. 

A  few  men  could  hold  it  against  many. 

Ever  since  the  destruction  of  Crevecceur  the 
Sieur  La  Salle  had  wanted  to  set  a  fort  upon  the 
Mississippi  midway  between  north  and  south 
to  be  the  center  of  the  fur  trade.  He  had  found 
here  on  the  tributary  Illinois  a  natural  fortress 

83 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

easily  defended  and  already  surrounded  by  loyal 
Indian  towns.  Upon  his  return  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Mississippi  he  had  built  the  stockade. 
For  the  present  he  would  make  it  answer  for 
his  central  headquarters.  It  was  christened 
Fort  Saint  Louis. 

The  crisp  spring  air  was  ideal  for  industry  and 
Tonty  was  determined  to  get  the  buildings  in 
perfect  order.  To  do  this  it  was  necessary  to 
bring  various  materials  from  the  plain.  The  end 
in  view  was  good.  Anthony  knew  that;  but  he 
decided  as  his  gang  of  workmen  reached  the 
heights,  threw  down  their  loads  and  panted  for 
breath,  that  they  had  done  enough  for  the 
present. 

He  winked  at  a  really  handsome  young  Indian 
standing  near  him  and  knew  by  a  single  exchange 
of  glances  that  this  fellow  was  of  the  same 
opinion.  He  had  loved  the  savage  and  had 
coaxed  him  into  fagging  for  his  white  brother 
ever  since  the  day  of  their  first  meeting  in  the 
fall.  For  Anthony  was  apt  to  give  his  light- 
hearted  affections  to  any  chum  who  promised 
to  be  full  of  fun. 

As  Tonty  stood  ready  with  his  next  order  he 
faced  Anthony's  way.  That  naughty  Frenchman 
with  his  team-mate  beside  him  paused  abruptly 
in  the  act  of  mopping  his  brow  and  fixed  his 
eyes,  popping  with  amazement,  on  a  tree  near 
him  where  hopped  two  robins.  All  the  Indians 

84 


ON  THE  ROCK 

round  about  followed  his  stare  and  watched  the 
robins.  Even  busy  Tonty  looked.  One  bird 
chirped  at  the  workers;  the  other  bird  turned 
his  head  on  one  side  and  said  to  the  first  bird 
in  perfectly  good  Illinois  dialect,  with  a  thin 
little  trilling  robin  voice,  "Squaws  work." 

The  Indians  stood  petrified.  Tonty,  ill- 
pleased  at  the  interruption,  waved  his  hand 
impatiently  and  the  robin  said  again,  "Squaws 
work."  That  magic  hand!  Every  Indian  saw 
it  make  the  bird  talk.  What  would  it  do  next? 
With  an  impulse  for  safety  they  turned  as  one 
man  and  went  scrambling,  sliding  and  falling 
to  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

Tonty  was  provoked.  "Oh,  Tony,  that  was 
such  an  untimely  thing  for  you  to  do  when  I 
need  the  workers.  Such  an  old,  old  trick,  too — 
so  childish!" 

"  It  is  all  the  better  for  being  ancient  and  sim- 
ple if  it  succeeds,"  grinned  the  unrepentant  An- 
thony ;  "  and  besides,  /  did  not  do  it.  I  couldn't. 
It  is  much  harder  than  singing  a  tune." 

"Didn't  the  sounds  come  through  those 
crooked  teeth  of  yours?" 

Anthony  shook  his  head  and  crossed  his 
heart.  His  chum  stood  innocently  aloof .  "Give 
us  an  hour,  dear  Tonty,  to  rest  our  muscles  in  a 
ball  game.  At  your  signal  I  will  bring  them  all 
here  again  to  work  at  double  speed,"  and  away 
he  ran  to  play. 
7  85 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Tonty,  heavy  with  care,  went  to  the  Sieur 
La  Salle  with  the  list  of  his  needs.  The  fort  was 
nearly  repaired.  Quantities  of  stores,  enough 
for  a  siege,  were  arriving  on  the  backs  of  squaws 
every  hour  in  the  day.  Bales  and  bales  of  furs 
by  the  same  pack  beasts  were  also  coming  up. 

As  the  two  leaders  stood  side  by  side  and 
gazed  down  on  the  lovely  fertile  plain,  the  happy 
towns  and  the  rollicking  ball  game,  they  talked 
of  how  best  to  hold  the  Great  River  valley  from 
this  vantage  point.  A  town  of  some  six  thousand 
Illinois  lay  just  across  the  river.  In  another 
direction,  also  within  reach  of  the  refuge  of  the 
fort,  was  a  village  of  Miamis  almost  as  large. 
Of  Shawnees,  Weas,  and  half  a  dozen  others  in 
much  smaller  tribes  there  were  enough  to  make 
perhaps  some  twenty  thousand  souls. 

These  were  allies.  Also  they  were  dependents. 
They  expected  the  Sieur  La  Salle  to  give  them 
French  goods  in  exchange  for  furs  and  to  help 
provide  them  with  food  if  their  crops  failed. 
First  of  all,  his  soldiers  and  his  steel  weapons 
must  protect  them  from  their  ferocious  enemies, 
the  Iroquois. 

He  had  claimed  all  this  land  with  their 
consent.  In  return  he  must  save  their  constantly 
threatened  lives.  Until  he  could  get  a  line  of 
ships  coming  through  the  Gulf  to  his  new-found 
port,  Fort  Saint  Louis  must  be  supplied  from 
Canada  by  that  route  through  the  Great  Lakes 

86 


ON  THE  ROCK 

which  he  had  struggled  over  back  and  forth  in 
so  many  heartbreaking  journeys  of  winter  hard- 
ships. 

On  the  Atlantic  seaboard  English  towns  were 
rooting  themselves  through  settlers  who  owned 
and  cultivated  their  homesteads  and  meant  to 
keep  them  forever.  Along  the  Pacific  coast 
Spanish  priests  drilling  the  heathen  into  civilized 
farmers  owned  the  gardens  where  the  adobe 
missions  were  building,  and  stood  ready  to 
defend  them.  In  the  Mississippi  Valley  between 
the  two  the  little  Rock  of  the  Illinois,  a  pin- 
point on  the  map,  a  speck  on  the  horizon,  by 
the  right  of  its  twenty  armed  Frenchmen  held 
the  whole  vast  region  of  the  Great  River  for 
France. 

And  the  twenty  Frenchmen,  every  one  as 
careless,  gay,  and  irresponsible  as  Anthony,  were 
playing  ball  while  Fort  Saint  Louis  stood  empty 
and  neglected. 

Tonty  was  justified  in  his  anxiety  as  he 
listened  to  the  Sieur  La  Salle  say:  "The  present 
governor  of  Canada  is  not  like  our  former 
friend,  Frontenac.  This  commandant  is  an  old 
man  and  a  greedy  politician  from  Paris.  He 
knows  nothing  of  Indian  warfare  and  does  not 
see  the  importance  of  this  post.  He  will  not  send 
the  men  we  need  to  defend  these  towns  nor  will 
he  give  us  the  munitions  and  goods  that  we  have 
paid  for  in  the  furs  already  forwarded  to  him." 

87 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

"There  are  less  than  a  hundred  pounds  of 
powder — "  interrupted  Tonty,  "and  the  Iroquois 
are  threatening  even  now — " 

"Look!"  cried  La  Salle,  "look!  Something 
has  happened  among  the  ball  players." 

The  dots  of  Indians,  far  below,  had  massed 
in  a  crowd  at  the  center  of  their  field  and  as 
suddenly  separated  again  with  shrill  wails,  each 
player  going  at  swiftest  pace  in  a  different 
direction. 

"Bad  news!  Prepare  yourself  for  a  deluge. 
As  fast  as  the  warning  spreads  they  will  come 
here  by  villages.  Put  a  good  face  on  it,"  and 
the  nobleman  made  ready  to  receive  his  tenants. 
He  was  their  overlord;  and  he  was  at  his  best 
when  dangers  assailed  him.  His  whole  life  was 
spent  in  defying  one  tragedy  after  another. 
"  There  are  stores  enough  to  feed  them  for  several 
days—" 

"When  the  powder  gives  out  we  can  use  bows 
and  arrows,  stones  and  logs — " 

The  bearer  of  evil  tidings  had  fallen  ex- 
hausted at  the  base  of  the  Rock.  Anthony  was 
the  first  to  come  over  the  rim  with  the  one  word 
message,  "Iroquois." 

Within  the  memory  of  these  Illinois  their 
valley  had  been  conquered  by  the  unspeakable 
Iroquois,  the  Huns  of  this  continent.  Towns 
had  been  destroyed,  men  killed,  women  tortured, 
children  scalped,  prisoners  burned.  Then  they 

88 


ON  THE  ROCK 

had  had  no  refuge.    Now  they  flew  to  Sieur  La 
Salle  and  the  Fort  Saint  Louis. 

To  the  Rock  they  came  pouring  in  such  a 
horde  as  only  fear  can  drive,  red  bodies  striving- 
contorted — palpitating — feathers  awry — clothes 
discarded — paint  running  in  sweating  streams. 
Hundreds  of  galloping  moccasined  feet  pounded 
out  such  a  series  of  steps  up  that  steep  trail 
as  shovels  could  not  have  done  in  a  whole 
season. 

Sieur  La  Salle  met  them.  His  proud,  domineer- 
ing face  showed  that  he  had  no  fear  of  anything. 
Tonty's  sensitive  Italian  lips,  quivering  with 
responsive  excitement,  answered  their  wild  de- 
mands for  the  protective  medicine  of  his  magic 
hand  with  all  sorts  of  impossible  promises. 

As  one  means  of  restoring  quiet,  the  mission- 
ary Father  prayed  as  loud  as  his  big  outdoor 
voice  could  shout.  And  Anthony  attended  by 
his  faithful  shadow  went  about  among  them 
with  that  quirk  of  a  smile  they  all  liked.  His 
words  were  happily  calm.  He  was  a  much  better 
worker  in  a  panic  than  he  was  in  a  ditching  gang. 
Together  they  reminded  the  quaking  ones  that 
any  man  who  could  make  a  bird  speak  could 
surely  save  them  from  the  Iroquois.  And  who 
had  not  already  heard  of  that  talking  bird  of  a 
few  hours  ago? 

A  red  sunset,  a  yellow  rising  moon  has  seldom 
looked  upon  a  spot  more  filled  with  human  stress. 

89 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

The  very  air  above  the  plateau  quivered  with 
hurried  breath  as  though  a  furnace  stirred  it. 
Every  hour  of  that  awful  night  added  to  the 
number  climbing  the  stair.  At  dawn  they  were 
still  coming.  Peeping  over  the  stockade  and 
from  perilous  overhanging  lookouts  they  watched 
the  plain.  Without  rest,  without  sleep,  they 
surged  back  and  forth,  quelled  to  a  semblance  of 
sanity  by  the  white  men. 

Peep  o'  dawn,  a  rising  sun,  a  day  of  light 
showed  a  deserted  vale.  No  Iroquois!  Their 
enemies  had  passed  on  some  other  trail.  This 
was  the  power  of  the  iron  hand.  Let  all  evil- 
doers beware! 

The  Illinois  pledged  fealty  afresh  to  the  com- 
mander who  had  for  his  servant  such  a  captain 
as  Tonty.  They  scurried  back  to  their  homes. 

This  event  had  made  the  Illinois  as  stable  as 
an  Indian  settlement  can  ever  be.  It  was  not  a 
town  such  as  La  Salle  wanted,  but  it  answered 
his  purpose.  In  his  enthusiasm  for  the  ex- 
tension of  France  he  saw  so  far  into  the  future 
that  some  of  the  things  he  planned  could  not  be 
carried  out  for  a  long,  long  time. 

It  was  not  until  the  year  1764  that  his  central 
city  for  the  Mississippi  was  founded  and  given 
the  name  of  his  choice,  Saint  Louis.  Coureurs 
de  bois  began  it.  Indians  were  treated  justly 
there.  Noble  Pontiac,  pathetic  in  his  defeated 
old  age,  was  given  a  home  within  its  stockade 

90 


ON  THE  ROCK 

gates.    A  tablet  to  his  memory  hangs  now  in  one 
of  its  finest  buildings. 

La  Fayette  was  one  of  the  city's  guests. 
Thomas  Benton,  a  statesman,  lived  there.  From 
its  trade  depots  the  canvas-topped  argosies 
were  fitted  out  for  the  gold-fields  of  the  forties. 
It  fought  buccaneers,  land-grabbers,  cholera, 
cyclones,  floods,  and  renegades,  and  in  each  trial 
came  out  victorious. 

Spain  at  one  time,  England  at  another,  tried 
to  hold  it  without  success.  But  when  it  became 
American,  it  remained  American.  The  French 
choice  of  location  gave  it  commercial  success. 
Father  Membre's  shaven  crown  would  go  high 
in  pride  could  he  see  the  churches,  schools,  and 
hospitals  it  has  to-day.  Its  parks,  boulevards, 
and  buildings  would  delight  Tonty's  Parisian 
taste. 

It  was  this  vision  of  their  Saint  Louis  to  come 
that  held  these  men  to  the  dangerous  Rock. 

Sieur  La  Salle  knew  that  the  peace  of  the 
valley  might  be  broken  at  any  time.  Men  and 
munitions  he  must  have.  He  left  Tonty  in 
command  and  started  again  over  the  trail  to 
Montreal  to  get  by  personal  demands  the 
supplies  that  otherwise  would  not  be  given  him. 

In  the  false  security  which  so  often  deceives 
the  unprepared,  the  villages  went  through  the 
summer  and  into  the  fall  under  the  fort  in  which 
they  had  such  superstitious  faith. 

91 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Then  again  came  the  cry  of,  "Wolf,  wolf!" 
Again  the  panic;  again  the  crowded  Rock; 
again  the  night  of  horror.  No  magic  availed. 
The  day  revealed  the  Iroquois  pack  surrounding 
the  hill.  They  sat  on  their  haunches  and 
yelped  as  though  they  had  come  to  stay.  All 
day,  all  night,  the  next  day,  the  next  night, 
three,  four,  five  days  and  nights  they  besieged 
the  Illinois. 

They  did  not  attack.  The  one  narrow 
cannon-swept  path  would  rake  off  their  warriors 
as  they  climbed  in  single  file.  They  meant  to  let 
the  Illinois  make  the  next  move  in  this  dreadful 
game. 

"If  they  find  out  how  low  our  powder  is — " 
began  Tonty.  He  would  not  mention  even  to 
himself  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  as  actually 
happened  many  years  afterward  on  this  very 
Rock  when  a  warrior  tribe  of  Illinois  was  be- 
sieged by  Pottawottomies  and  perished  so 
miserably  that  the  place  has  ever  since  been 
called  Starvation  Rock. 

The  Father  confessor  of  the  flock  was  thinking 
of  another  danger.  "If  the  smallpox  should 
break  out  here— 

Anthony  laid  a  friendly  hand  on  Tonty's 
arm.  "Once  you  saved  the  Illinois  because  you 
were  brave  enough  to  go  into  their  camp  alone." 

Tonty  shook  his  head.  "No,  it  was  because 
I  did  not  wear  ear-rings!" 

92 


ON  THE  ROCK 

"It  is  my  turn  now  to  do  what  I  can,"  and 
Anthony  took  his  chum  by  the  hand.  "Open 
the  gates  for  us,"  he  demanded. 

When  the  guarded  gates  swung  apart  the  two 
crept  through  and  disappeared  down  the  incline 
toward  the  twinkling  Iroquois  camp. 

Little  owls — the  forest  was  always  full  of  them 
— hooted  now  here  and  now  there,  calling  back 
and  forth  in  wavering  minor  notes.  Tonty's 
ear  could  not  tell  the  difference  between  an  owl's 
voice  and  a  white  man's  imitation  of  it,  but  any 
Indian  could  easily  do  so.  The  Illinois  whom 
Tonty  asked  to  listen  to  the  sounds  was  sure 
that  part  were  made  by  Anthony,  but  neither  he 
nor  any  one  else  could  say  whether  birds  or 
Anthony's  companion  made  the  rest. 

These  two  mimics,  half  in  joy  over  the  ad- 
venture and  half  in  fear  of  its  outcome,  slipped 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  hostile  camp.  They 
peeped  at  one  place  and  then  another  to  find  the 
best  spot  in  which  to  let  the  Iroquois  capture 
them. 

At  last  they  saw  a  tiny  fire  where  sentinels 
were  putting  their  weapons  in  order.  And  in 
the  shadow,  quite  like  a  page  of  a  child's  picture- 
book,  sat  four  little  owls  all  a-row  on  a  limb. 
It  was  the  stage  setting  that  they  wanted  for 
their  vaudeville  act.  Whether  it  should  turn 
out  a  comedy  or  a  tragedy  the  endangered 
Illinois  nation  would  soon  be  able  to  tell. 

93 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

A  delicate,  indefinite  "oo  -  oo  -  oo  -"  did  not 
attract  special  notice  from  the  sentinels.  But 
when  Anthony's  heavier  voice  and  very  human 
"hoo  -  oot"  sounded  close  to  them  they  jumped 
to  attention,  pounced  upon  the  pair  and  jerked 
them  into  the  firelight  for  inspection  as  though 
they  had  been  a  couple  of  rag  dolls.  In  any 
surprising  event  there  is  always  a  half -minute 
when  even  the  most  active  will  pause  to  decide 
upon  the  next  movement.  A  few  seconds'  in- 
spection of  their  captives  were  necessary  before 
the  sentinels  would  raise  the  alarm,  "White 
man!" 

On  some  such  brief  interval  Anthony  had 
built  his  plans.  He  pointed  at  the  owls  and 
gazed  open-mouthed  and  intent.  It  is  a  trick 
that  never  fails.  All  the  sentinels  followed  his 
glance.  Not  one  of  them  looked  at  the  lips  of 
the  Illinois  Indian  standing  beside  Anthony. 
One  of  the  little  owls  blinking  in  the  firelight 
shifted  his  feet,  opened  his  beak  and  whined  in 
Iroquois,  "Answer  me — answer  me." 

Anthony  reproachfully  declared  in  the  same 
language,  "I  did  answer  you;  I  did."  Indeed 
every  Iroquois  had  heard  the  boyish  hoot. 

One  of  the  sentinels  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  and  rolled  out  of  sight  into  the  dark. 
His  personal  safety  was  his  one  instinct.  An- 
other ran  to  the  chief  speechless  with  alarm. 
But  a  third,  who  was  not  possessed  of  an  ex- 

94 


ON  THE  ROCK 

citable  temperament,  clutched  his  prisoners  with 
fingers  like  steel  and  bade  a  paralyzed  Iroquois 
bind  their  wrists. 

Thus  they  were  escorted  toward  a  whooping 
band  who  were  already  running  to  meet  them. 
They  were  roughly  handled,  their  clothes  torn, 
their  faces  scratched. 

Yet  the  story  of  the  owl  as  it  traveled  had  its 
effect  in  putting  the  two  prisoners  in  a  different 
class  from  the  handful  of  Illinois  captives  who 
were  already  bound  both  hands  and  feet. 
Anthony  in  particular  they  examined  with  a 
dreadfully  intimate  curiosity,  sticking  their  fing- 
ers in  his  mouth  to  try  the  edges  of  his  four  unus- 
ual teeth  and  picking  at  his  ears.  If  he  had  had 
a  beard — but  no,  his  chin  and  lips  were  smooth! 
Had  there  been  rings  in  his  ears — not  even  holes 
were  drilled  in  them!  That  is,  had  he  been  a 
whiskered,  ear-ringed  Spaniard  they  would  have 
killed  him  then  and  there.  But  since  he  was  so 
plainly  French  they  hesitated  as  they  had  once 
done  with  Tonty,  of  whose  magic  ringers  they 
were  much  afraid. 

They  had  various  treaties  with  the  French 
which  they  sometimes  kept  and  oftener  broke. 
They  never  quite  dared  to  murder  a  Frenchman 
offhand.  They  generally  tortured  him  and  let 
him  go. 

So  Anthony  as  he  was  dumped  into  a  brush 
heap  by  the  chief's  fire  tried  to  tell  his  Illinois 

95 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

chum  that  they  were  safe  enough  and  their 
business  in  the  enemies'  camp  successfully  begun. 
If,  as  the  night  grew  cold  and  his  bonds  cut 
painfully  and  his  captors  looked  more  and  more 
like  the  red  demons  they  were,  his  courage 
thinned  and  he  shed  a  few  tears  of  weariness  and 
self-pity,  no  one  knew  it. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  be  brave  at  midnight 
when  all  the  warriors  were  still  awake  and  bait- 
ing him,  but  his  spirits  were  at  low  ebb  in  the 
hour  before  dawn. 

"Perhaps  the  chief,  after  a  week's  unsuccessful 
siege,  may  also  feel  discouraged.  This  is  the 
time  to  try  him,"  thought  Anthony  as  he  gazed 
in  every  direction,  but  saw  no  owl  to  help  him. 
The  brighter  eyes  of  his  Illinois  at  his  side  showed 
him  where  to  look  and  indicated  that  he  was 
ready  to  help. 

The  long,  shivering  cry  of  the  owl  woke  the 
jaded  chieftain,  and  Anthony's  echoing  answer 
brought  half  a  dozen  chilled  warriors  to  their 
feet. 

Anthony  was  sitting  up  and  shaking  his  head 
at  the  owl.  The  Illinois  seemed  to  be  asleep. 

The  owl  said,  "Answer  me,  answer  me." 

"Wait  until  the  iron  hand  comes,"  replied 
Anthony  with  apparent  secrecy  in  a  very 
audible  whisper,  "then  he  will  give  bad  medi- 
cine." 

The  owl  laughed — yes — laughed! 

96 


ON  THE  ROCK 

Anthony  hastily  set  his  finger  on  his  lips  as  a 
signal  to  the  owl  to  be  silent.  The  owl  obeyed. 
Anthony  pretended  to  pretend  to  go  to  sleep! 

The  dismayed  chiefs  laid  their  ruffled  feathers 
together.  They  did  not  like  the  prospect  of  "a 
visit  from  Tonty,  who  had  more  than  once 
puzzled  and  defeated  them.  His  bad  medicine 
was  bitter  to  their  taste. 

Without  stopping  to  call  a  powwow  they 
summoned  all  hands  to  arms.  They  released  the 
Illinois  prisoners  and  drove  them  out  of  camp. 
They  roused  Anthony  and  his  chum  and  bade 
them  leave. 

"But  we  don't  want  to  go,"  protested  An- 
thony. "We  like  to  wait  with  you." 

The  listening  chiefs  were  overwrought.  They 
dared  not  kill  him,  nor  keep  him,  nor  send  him 
back.  They  set  some  sentries  over  him,  not 
to  prevent  his  escape,  but  to  hold  him  so  that  he 
could  not  follow  them!  For  they  were  now  bent 
on  running  away  before  Tonty's  hand  should 
strike  at  them.  Of  armed  force  they  were  not 
afraid,  but  before  black  magic  they  fled  in  panic. 

Break  o*  day  saw  them  going  over  the  horizon. 

Night  in  a  far-away  camp  found  the  Iroquois 
breathing  more  easily.  The  chief  was  still  so 
nervous  that  a  little  owl  above  him  disturbed 
him.  To  his  horror  Anthony's  voice  in  a  poor 
imitation  of  the  bird's  call  came  through  the 
woods. 

97 


"Hoo-oo-oot!" 

He  clutched  at  his  braves.  They  huddled 
round  him.  What  an  unwelcome  sight  was 
Anthony  as  he  came  toward  their  hiding-place! 

"How  has  the  magician  escaped  his  guards? 
Why  does  he  follow  me?"  The  great  dignitary 
gave  way  to  his  real  feelings  and  with  a  howl  of 
fear  ran  still  farther  through  the  forest.  All  his 
braves  trailed  hot-foot  after  him.  Anthony 
trotted  along  in  not  too  close  pursuit. 

On  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day  Tonty 
looked  down  upon  the  deserted  plain.  The 
enemy  had  left  in  the  night.  He  wrote  in  his 
journal,  "The  Iroquois  retired  discomfited." 

Toward  night  the  Illinois  prisoners  who  had 
been  released  began  to  straggle  into  the  fort. 
Some  were  badly  singed;  others  full  of  nasty 
cuts;  all  were  scared.  They  could  not  tell  why 
the  Iroquois  had  freed  them. 

It  was  not  until  evening  of  the  tenth  day  that 
Anthony  and  the  Illinois  came  back.  They  were 
ragged  and  tired.  The  Illinois  was  as  solemn  as 
any  screech-owl  could  be,  but  Anthony  was  full 
of  laughter. 

When  all  the  tribes  crowded  round  the  two  to 
thank  them  for  driving  the  besiegers  away  and 
rejoicing  in  their  escape,  he  said  in  great  glee: 
"We  did  not  escape.  They  ran  from  us!" 


VII 


JOLLY   ROGER 

Guarding  the  Port  of  the  Mississippi  beside  the  Buccaneer  Pilot,  Law- 
rence de  Graaf — A  Queer  Flag  at  the  Mast 

THE  Badine  was  the  name  of  a  ship  dancing 
over  the  Atlantic  to  her  port  at  Santo  Do- 
mingo of  the  West  Indies.  Behind  her  came 
her  sister  ship,  the  Marine,  a  small  frigate.  In 
their  wake,  wavering  gull-like  in  the  sunshine, 
sailed  a  couple  of  store  vessels. 

The  commander  of  the  fleet  was  the  Sieur  de 
Iberville,  a  Canadian,  lately  the  hero  of  the 
battle  of  Hudson  Bay.  With  the  sweep  and  dash 
of  some  North  Sea  Viking,  he  had  plunged  with 
his  ship,  the  Pelican,  into  the  frost  and  fog  of 
that  Arctic  harbor.  He  fell  upon  those  ancient 
rivals  of  the  French,  the  English  traders,  and 
took  them  by  surprise.  To  their  man-of-war 
he  gave  a  slashing  fight  and  sank  it.  Two 
consort  ships  were  captured.  Fort  Nelson  could 
not  hold  out  against  his  impetuous  onslaught. 
It  was  taken  and  renamed  Fort  Bourbon. 

99 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

For  this  maritime  conquest  France  hailed  him 
as  a  brilliant  genius.  The  court  feted  and 
idolized  him.  The  king  gave  him  a  patent,  two 
hundred  colonists,  and  supplies  enough  to  found 
a  colony  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  River. 

The  first  fleet  sent  from  the  mother  country 
to  the  sea  entrance  of  the  Mississippi  had  over- 
sailed  the  estuary  and  had  been  wrecked  upon 
the  coast  of  Texas.  The  brave  La  Salle,  leader 
of  the  expedition,  had  perished  tragically  while 
going  back  overland  to  search  for  what  was 
called  his  "fatal  river." 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville's  fleet  had  crossed  the 
ocean  safely.  The  decks  of  the  Badine  and 
Marine  were  crowded  with  folks  in  their  best 
array.  Land  had  been  sighted.  They  longed 
for  a  view  of  that  New  World  which  was  to  be 
their  home. 

One  of  the  commander's  retinue,  an  adventurer 
of  France,  Anthony  Auguelle,  the  Picard  du 
Gay,  set  his  scarlet  heels  upon  the  boards  where 
his  buckles  glittered  finely.  His  hair  was  parted 
in  the  middle  and  hung  in  heavy  curls  on  his 
shoulders.  In  those  days  he  who  had  good  hair 
wore  it  thus;  he  who  had  it  not  bought  a  wig 
and  achieved  the  same  effect.  A  plumed  hat 
adorned  the  curls.  This  was  the  fashion  of  that 
Paris  Anthony  had  so  lately  quitted  for  the 
Spanish  Main.  His  velvet  coat  which  concealed 
a  shirt  of  mail,  his  laces  and  ruffles,  his  knee 

IOO 


JOLLY   ROGER 

breeches  and  sword  were  exactly  as  they  should 
be.  He  was  proud  of  himself. 

Yet  all  of  this  elegance  was  forgotten  when  the 
lookout  called :  "  A  sail !  A  sail !" 

The  colonists  strained  their  eyes  on  the 
horizon  where  one  by  one  each  gradually  made 
out  three  low-lying  craft  of  speed,  sloops  of  ten 
guns  each.  They  flew  no  flag.  But  when  upon 
closer  approach  the  pilot  of  the  Badine  hailed 
them  with  some  cabalistic  word,  they  set  up  such 
a  shout  as  none  of  the  listeners  had  ever  heard. 
As  they  passed  at  quarters  perilously  close  the 
dullest  eye  could  see — all  ready  to  raise  as  it  lay 
at  the  foot  of  the  mast  in  the  foremost  boat — 
the  black  flag  of  piracy! 

On  the  Badine  and  the  Marine  and  on  both 
the  other  ships  every  gun  was  manned,  every 
soldier  stood  in  readiness.  But  the  sloops  gave 
them  a  cheer  and  a  great  laugh.  Nothing  else! 

The  officers  looked  to  the  Sieur  de  Iberville 
for  explanation.  He  looked  to  his  pilot.  Now 
this  pilot's  name  was  Lawrence  de  Graaf  and  he 
was  a  buccaneer  upon  occasion.  Every  one  on 
board  knew  that.  But  a  ship  must  have  a  pilot, 
even  though  he  be  a  person  with  a  history.  And 
a  buccaneer  is  to  a  pirate  as  a  tadpole  to  a  frog. 
Until  he  is  fully  developed  he  is  more  interesting 
than  repulsive.  So  de  Graaf  answered,  quite 
simply,  "They  wait  for  bigger  game." 

After  an  uneasy  interval   of  suspense  and 

8  ioi 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

guessing  they  found  that  he  was  right,  for  they 
saw  a  far-away  dot  which  on  coming  nearer  and 
nearer  proved  to  be  that  most  magnificent 
pageant  of  the  coral  seas,  a  Spanish  galleon  with 
all  sail  spread. 

As  this  splendid  treasure  ship  went  past  them 
on  the  wings  of  the  trade  wind  the  Badine 
shouted  a  warning  to  her,  "Beware  the  sloops!" 

The  other  ships  from  France  repeated  the 
hail, "  Beware  the  sloops !"  She  dipped  an  ensign 
in  a  salute  of  thanks.  How  gallant  she  was ! 

"Shall  we  turn  about  and  go  to  her  assist- 
ance?" asked  the  Sieur  de  Bienville,  younger 
brother  to  the  commandant.  This  was  his  first 
sight  of  pirates,  and  he  was  as  full  of  fight  as  a 
cockerel. 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville  shook  his  head.  "The 
sloops  are  Spanish,  the  galleon  is  Spanish,  too; 
they  might  combine  against  us  and  amuse  them- 
selves by  making  us  walk  Spanish  before  they 
fought  it  out  between  them." 

"Will  there  be  pirates  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi?"  queried  de  Bienville,  hopefully. 

"  If  we  begin  a  successful  colony  they  will  raid 
it.  All  good  towns  will  be  looted.  You  will 
have  your  fill  of  defending  the  weak  in  days  to 
come.  When  you  grow  too  strong  to  be  robbed 
you  can  then  buy  of  the  sea-rovers  all  the  stuff 
they  have  taken  from  some  one  else." 

"And  you  won't  stop  now  to  interfere  in 

102 


JOLLY  ROGER 

Spanish  family  quarrels?"  asked  Anthony  in  a 
tone  filled  with  regret. 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville  shook  his  head,  and  the 
fleet  went  on  to  anchor  at  Cape  Haytien.  At 
that  place  they  met  the  La  Fran$oise,  a  fifty-gun 
war-ship,  sent  to  join  them  and  to  act  as  escort 
past  the  lanes  of  piracy. 

By  de  Graaf 's  advice  they  stopped  also  at  the 
island  of  Tortugas,  where  they  could  get  a  stock 
of  meat  much  cheaper  than  at  Santo  Domingo. 
Cut  prices  were  possible,  for  the  men  of  Tortugas 
stole  the  cattle  from  the  planters  of  Santo  Do- 
mingo. They  dried  the  meat  by  a  process  called 
buchanning.  While  fitting  out  any  ship  with 
meat  these  buchanners,  or  buccaneers,  examined 
it  to  see  whether  it  was  armed  or  not  and  wheth- 
er it  was  worth  a  chase. 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville's  fleet  was  not  afraid  of 
them.  From  the  superior  height  of  the  quarter- 
deck, and  the  elevated  sense  of  clean  mind, 
decent  body,  and  elegant  clothes,  Anthony  looked 
down  upon  the  unkempt  men  who  loaded  the 
meat. 

These  fellows  had  rough  hair  braided  into 
queues  tied  back  with  bandanas.  Their  chests 
and  arms  and  feet  were  bare.  Bright  sashes 
bound  round  their  rags  held  pistols  of  every  size 
and  shape.  Wherever  a  knife  could  be  stuck, 
behind  ears,  in  pockets,  up  trousers  legs,  there 

it  gleamed.    When  one  of  them  carried  a  blade 

103 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

between  his  teeth  how  reckless  he  looked! 
How  any  man  could  degrade  himself  to  the  level 
of  one  of  these  foul  robbers  Anthony  could  not 
imagine. 

One  yellow-fanged  beef -handler  had  a  scar 
across  his  mouth  from  some  blow  which  had 
knocked  out  his  lower  front  teeth.  He  was 
whistling  through  this  handy  opening  a  curiously 
wild  and  melodious  air.  Leaning  over  the  rail, 
Anthony  puckered  his  lips  around  the  impish 
gap  in  his  own  handsome  teeth  and  repeated  the 
tune  with  an  echo's  mockery. 

The  man  glanced  up.  If  he  had  not  fancied 
Anthony's  look  it  was  an  even  chance  that  he 
had  gone  black  with  hate  and  thrown  a  knife. 
Like  most  people  at  whom  Anthony  smiled  he 
softened  into  friendliness.  "Ha,  comrade,"  he 
called,  for  the  ship  was  moving  out,  "we  will 
meet  again.  How  do  they  call  you?"  His 
words  were  English. 

Tickled  at  making  the  acquaintance  of  a 
buccaneer  so  easily,  Anthony  replied  in  French : 
"I  am  the  Picard  du  Gay  at  your  service. 
Thank  you  for  the  tune." 

"Good-by,  du  Gay,  good-by!" 

"Good-by,  brother,  good-by,"  and  Anthony 
laughed  as  he  waved  his  hand. 

All  this  looked  like  playing  with  fire  to  the 
Sieur  de  Bienville.  He  was  young ;  much  younger 
than  Anthony  now  was.  But  Anthony  still 

104 


JOLLY  ROGER 

looked  so  boyish  and  was  so  fresh  at  heart  that 
the  two  had  become  cronies  on  the  long  voyage. 
With  one  mind  they  now  fell  to  talking  of  the 
Gulf  pirates.  What  could  they  do  if  their  colony 
was  attacked  and  the  skull  and  cross-bones 
flaunted  in  their  faces? 

They  were  therefore  much  dismayed,  upon 
reaching  Pensacola,  to  find  that  they  them- 
selves were  objects  of  suspicion.  Their  fleet 
was  forbidden  to  enter  the  harbor.  Pensacola 
was  a  Spanish  colony.  The  officers  of  the 
port  were  polite  but  firm  in  their  refusal.  Be- 
hind them  lay  a  Spanish  war-ship  even  bigger 
than  the  La  Fmnqoise.  The  French  fleet 
moved  on. 

De  Bienville  fumed,  "They  treat  us  as  though 
we  were  robbers."  But  after  he  had  followed  de 
Graaf 's  significant  look  at  the  fifty  guns  of  their 
escort,  he  demanded  of  his  brother,  "If  our 
war-ship  had  been  the  best  armed  would  you 
have  gone  in  by  force?"  and  when  the  com- 
mandant did  not  reply  he  and  Anthony  put 
their  heads  together  and  went  over  the  whole 
matter  again.  "I  think  our  patent  allows  us  to 
use  our  judgment  about  how  to  hold  and 
extend  the  king's  dominion."  And  he  made 
round  eyes  as  who  should  ask,  "How  far  can  a 
man  go  in  the  pursuit  of  such  duties?" 

Westward  then  moved  these  French  ships. 
Cautiously  they  wound  among  the  islands  which 

105 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

make  a  barrier  between  the  rough  waters  of  the 
Gulf  and  the  northern  coast.  In  the  quieter 
channel  thus  formed  they  came  to  anchor  and 
chose  Ship  Island  for  their  first  stopping-place. 
Here  the  war-ship  left  them:  here  the  colonists 
built  the  first  huts  to  shelter  themselves. 

The  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  must  be  near 
at  hand,  but  they  did  not  know  exactly  where. 
Not  wishing  to  risk  his  all  as  the  unfortunate 
La  Salle  had  done,  the  Sieur  de  Iberville  left 
most  of  his  colonists  and  his  ocean-going  ships 
at  the  island.  Taking  forty-eight  men  in  two 
open  boats  he  rowed  westward  still  further  along 
the  coast. 

The  sky  and  sea  were  as  blue  as  blue  could  be. 
The  beach  sands  and  the  clouds  were  white  as 
spray.  The  live-oaks  and  the  pines  marked  the 
mainland  with  lines  of  beauty.  In  the  channel 
porpoises  at  play  stood  up  on  their  tails  to  make 
bows  of  welcome  inviting  the  Frenchmen  to  fol- 
low them. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  be  sweeping  along 
through  this  balmy  air.  Anthony's  barytone 
began  to  mark  the  time  for  the  oarsmen  with  the 
tune  he  had  picked  up  at  Tortugas.  The  new 
melody  seemed  oddly  suited  to  the  time  and 
place. 

"Teach  him  the  words,"  cried  de  Graaf,  and 
the  sailors  who  knew  a  little  of  that  difficult 
language  called  English  were  soon  singing  in 

1 06 


JOLLY  ROGER 

chorus  with  Anthony  the  words  of  the  song  once 
so  popular: 

"  My  name  was  Captain  Kidd  as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed, 
My  name  was  Captain  Kidd  as  I  sailed. 
God's  laws  I  did  forbid  and  right  wickedly  I  did 
As  I  sailed!" 

For  two  rollicking  days  they  rang  endless 
changes  on  this  fascinating  theme.  On  the  third 
a  storm  overtook  them.  Not  daring  to  put  into 
the  waters  of  the  Gulf,  the  Sieur  de  Iberville 
decided  to  risk  landing  on  the  rocky  coast. 

Nobody,  then,  knew  how  big  the  world  was. 
Longitude  was  not  understood.  Sailors  had  to 
guess  at  distances  east  and  west.  La  Salle  had 
thus  gone  past  the  Mississippi's  mouth  whose 
latitude  he  knew.  The  accident  had  brought  his 
colony  to  a  miserable  end  at  the  unfavorable 
place  where  they  finally  landed. 

By  a  lucky  chance,  since  there  was  no  way 
to  reckon  the  right  spot,  the  Sieur  de  Iberville 
went  straight  into  the  Great  River  half  hidden 
behind  the  outlying  palisades.  He  saved  his 
boats:  he  found  his  port.  The  place  of  landing 
he  named  Mardi  Gras  for  the  day,  Tuesday, 
March  3,  1699. 

It  was  a  good  beginning.  After  that  all  the 
adventurers  were  eager  to  go  upon  exploring 
parties,  to  make  friends  with  the  Indians,  and  to 

107 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

build  a  town.  The  colonists  were  ready  to  set 
their  homes  almost  any  place  upon  the  borders 
of  this  summer  sea.  So  the  city  of  the  port  of 
the  Great  River  was  begun,  settled,  and  stock- 
aded as  the  Sieur  La  Salle  had  prophesied  that 
some  day  it  would  be. 

It  was  better  not  to  have  all  his  resources  in 
one  place  to  tempt  a  buccaneer  attack,  and  so 
Sieurde  Iberville  built  another  fort  on  Ship  Island 
and  one  at  Biloxi  inlet  on  the  north  coast. 

Ship  Island  was  an  ideal  secret  refuge,  and 
when  it  was  abandoned  by  the  French  colonists 
for  larger  quarters  on  shore  it  became  a  rendez- 
vous for  pirates  of  the  Gulf.  Its  silver  sand  has 
buried  many  treasures  of  gold  and  gems  and  it 
has  been  dyed  with  the  blood  of  captured  crews. 
To-day  a  government  station  stands  upon  it  and 
its  wicked  years  are  almost  forgotten  by  the 
honest  boats  with  respectable  mariners  now 
sailing  tamely  past  it. 

On  the  bay  at  Biloxi,  the  Sieur  de  Iberville's 
bastioned  fort  held  a  dozen  cannon.  Later  still 
another  fort  was  built  in  Mobile  Bay.  All  were 
intended  to  guard  the  coming  city  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Mississippi  and  her  immense  domain. 
Anthony  was  one  of  many  to  work  on  these 
defenses  against  sea-robbers,  or  Indians,  or  rival 
nations. 

One  day,  while  he  and  the  boyish  de  Bienville 
and  a  few  armed  followers  were  floating  down 

108 


JOLLY  ROGER 

the  Mississippi  from  one  of  their  numerous 
scouting  trips,  what  should  they  see  but  a  full- 
rigged  ship  coming  to  meet  them. 

Their  surprise  was  mixed  with  fear.  For  the 
ship  was  English  and  she  carried  sixteen  guns. 
And,  as  they  presently  learned,  a  sister  ship  quite 
as  strong  lay  off  the  mouth  of  the  Great  River. 
What  if  this  commander  turned  those  guns  on 
their  tiny  new  town?  What  if  he  captured  these 
Frenchmen  and  took  this  smaller  open  boat  with 
its  four  little  cannon? 

The  stripling  de  Bienville  was  a  master  of 
men.  He  promised  his  crew  that  they  should 
not  be  taken.  Then  he  sent  a  friendly  hail  to  the 
ruddy  captain  of  the  English  and  beamed  con- 
fidently at  his  fellows  when  it  was  politely 
returned.  Anthony,  who  loved  courtesy,  forgot 
how  scared  he  was  as  he  listened  to  the  formal 
speech  in  which  the  two  leaders  conversed. 

They  used  English,  but  he  was  able  to  under- 
stand that  the  Englishman  was  Captain  Barr 
and  that  he  had  come  at  the  command  of  his 
king  and  queen  to  take  possession  of  the  Missis- 
sippi ! 

Anthony's  heart  sank  like  lead.  After  all  that 
Frenchmen  had  done  and  suffered  to  explore 
this  river  valley  it  seemed  dreadful  to  lose  it 
now  by  so  unequal  a  battle  as  this  would  be  if 
their  little  boat  had  to  fight  it  out  with  the 

English  ship.     But  de  Bienville's  boyish  face 

109 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

showed  the  friendliest  interest  in  the  English- 
man's plans. 

He  assured  Captain  Barr  that  there  was  a 
Mississippi  river.  "I  am  sure  of  that,"  he  stated 
positively  in  his  frank  young  way,  "for  I've 
often  heard  the  Indians  speak  of  it.  If  you 
continue  to  sail  along  the  coast  line  you  will 
surely  find  some  splendid  stream.  This  river,  of 
course,  belongs  to  the  French ;  there  is  one  of  our 
colonies  on  it ;  but  there  are  other  rivers,  enough 
for  all  of  us.  You  have  our  best  wishes  to  take 
with  you  as  you  go  in  search  of  a  Mississippi  for 
your  empire." 

So  this  English  Captain  Barr  turned  his  big 
ship  about  and,  leaving  the  little  French  boat  in 
control,  sailed  away  never  to  return. 

Quoth  the  wise  de  Bienville :  ' '  When  we  cannot 
win  by  force  of  arms,  strategy  is  the  thing.  My 
dear  du  Gay,  as  you  stood  and  nodded  your 
head  to  confirm  the  stories  I  told,  I  have  a  fancy 
that  you  involved  yourself  in  international 
intrigue.  It  is  just  possible  that  you  and  I  may 
look  like  doubtful  characters  to  Captain  Barr's 
superior  officers  since  we  pulled  a  kingdom  from 
his  grasp.  Men  have  walked  the  plank  for  less 
than  we  have  done  this  day!" 

Many  captains  of  every  nation  were  watched 
with  suspicion  in  those  days,  for  the  riches  of 
the  New  World  sailing  homeward  toward  the 
Old  were  a  constant  temptation  to  travelers,  and 

no 


JOLLY  ROGER 

many  privateers  became  pirates  because  it  was 
such  an  easy  way  to  make  money.  Not  only 
Ship's  Island,  but  almost  any  dot  of  land  would 
do  for  a  harbor  to  a  band  of  smugglers  or 
marooners.  For  a  full  century  after  the  set- 
tlement of  its  mouth  they  flourished  in  the 
neighboring  channels  and  bayous  of  the  Great 
River. 

All  kings  were  alike  to  a  pirate.  He  openly 
defied  French,  English,  and  Spanish  rule.  But 
when  in  the  time  of  the  War  of  1812,  "old  Andy 
Jackson"  came  down  to  New  Orleans  to  make  a 
stand  for  democracy  against  the  British  red- 
coats, the  smugglers  and  outlaws  of  the  north 
coast,  those  ruffian  Baratarians,  with  their 
strong  sentiment  for  personal  freedom  and  self- 
government,  offered  themselves  to  him.  They 
were  glad  to  fight  for  his  cause. 

Under  the  notorious  Lafitte  they  came  bring- 
ing all  the  ferocity  of  hand-forged  guns  and 
home-made  knives  and  filibustered  ammunition. 
They  threw  the  whole  of  their  buccaneering 
energy  into  the  cause  of  the  first  republic  of  the 
continent.  In  that  long  struggle,  when  hope  was 
almost  gone,  they  helped  to  turn  the  scale  for 
freedom  and  were  one  of  the  picturesque  units 
who  made  possible  the  famous  victory  of  New 
Orleans. 

In  de  Bienville's  time  Captain  Barr's  was  the 

earliest  ship  to  threaten  French  rights.    Whether 

in 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

it  was  his  turning  back  which  displeased  his 
government  into  challenging  the  Sieur  de  Iber- 
ville  or  whether  there  were  commands  from 
France  to  strike  any  rival  before  she  struck  them, 
Anthony  as  a  subordinate  couldn't  find  out, 
but  there  came  a  day  when  the  commandant 
ordered  the  Badine  and  the  Marine  into  action, 
and  leaving  de  Bienville  behind  to  look  after  the 
colonists,  he  sailed  away  to  the  island  of  Nevis 
and,  taking  it  by  surprise,  captured  it  without 
trouble. 

St.  Christopher  also  belonged  to  England,  and 
that  the  French  meant  to  get  on  the  same  cruise. 
On  its  coral  strand  the  tiny  hamlet  of  thatched 
huts,  palm  grove,  brilliant  birds,  and  huge 
flowers  seemed  an  easy  little  Noah's  ark  sort  of 
town  to  pick  up. 

But  alack-a-day!  Its  men  were  all  at  home. 
They  proved  to  be,  not  timid  natives  under  one 
domineering  white  man,  but  a  very  hornets'  nest 
of  recruiting  buccaneers.  And  the  Sieur  de 
Iberville's  soldiers,  for  all  their  vaunted  mili- 
tary training,  were  hard  pressed  to  subdue  the 
town. 

Now  Anthony  was  not  a  soldier.  He  was  at- 
tached to  the  Iberville  expedition  as  an  envoy  to 
the  Mississippi  Indians.  But  when  he  saw  the 
need  of  another  sword  arm,  he  hurriedly  braided 
his  hair  and  tied  it  back  out  of  the  way  with  his 
kerchief,  loosened  his  collar  for  more  air,  rolled 

112 


JOLLY  ROGER 

up  his  sleeves,  tightened  his  sash,  snatched  his 
pistol,  and  threw  himself  against  the  enemy. 

The  military  formation  of  the  ranks  had  been 
broken  almost  as  soon  as  it  touched  the  shore. 
The  battle  was  not  organized — it  was  a  running 
fight — each  Frenchman  against  the  nearest  buc- 
caneer, hand  to  hand,  up  and  down,  back  and 
forth,  over  the  one  long  street  of  the  toy  village. 
Going  at  one  another  like  a  lot  of  fiends,  they  cut 
and  hacked — shot  and  clubbed — guns  were  emp- 
tied— swords  broken — teeth  and  nails  used — any 
weapon  to  keep  the  next  man  off. 

The  buccaneers  were  disappearing.  Victory 
seemed  to  be  with  the  French.  They  paused  for 
breath.  Through  the  lull  came  the  alarm :  ' '  The 
ship!  The  ship!" 

The  English  had  run  for  the  harbor  by  a  back 
way  and  were  attacking  the  flag-ship!  They 
scaled  the  swinging  ladders.  Repelling  the  own- 
ers like  boarders,  the  rogues  forced  the  French 
to  fight  madly  for  their  own  Badine.  If  the 
buccaneers  could  once  get  a  ship  like  this  they 
could  sail  the  Gulf  and  river  as  full-fledged 
pirates.  What  a  truly  fine  joke  it  would  be  if 
the  men  of  St.  Christopher  should  turn  the 
French  ship  against  the  French  port !  It  was  one 
of  the  tricks  of  the  Spanish  Main  to  do  such 
things. 

Anthony  fought  like  a  man  of  twice  his  size. 
He  struggled  for  his  own  life,  for  the  life  of  the 

"3 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Mississippi  port,  for  the  life  of  New  France. 
He  banged  away  as  though  Joliet,  Accau,  Tonty, 
and  La  Salle  were  at  his  back.  His  hand  never 
faltered.  Over  the  rail  into  the  bow  he  went 
headlong.  A  man  was  at  the  mast.  The  rascal 
all  ready  to  pull  down  the  French  colors  whipped 
out  his  own  pennant — a  white  skull  and  cross- 
bones  on  a  black  field. 

Anthony  flung  against  him  with  all  the  force 
of  desperation.  Together  they  went  down  and 
rolled  over  and  over  the  swaying  deck ;  with  the 
buccaneer  on  top  they  bumped  into  the  rail. 

One  great  hand  with  claws  like  knives  had 
already  torn  Anthony's  shoulder  into  slits; 
the  other  fastened  on  his  throat;  it  was  ready  to 
tighten  its  strangle-hold.  The  vanquished  one 
glared  wildly  at  his  would-be  murderer.  Then 
he  began  to  laugh  with  his  eyes.  Who  knew 
better  than  Anthony  how  to  make  merry  with 
one  glance?  The  buccaneer  stared  in  wonder. 
His  hold  relaxed.  Anthony's  lips  parted  in  as 
friendly  a  smile  as  ever  a  man  could  give.  His 
assailant  hung  over  him  in  perplexity.  Anthony 
puckered  his  lips  and  whistled  one  bar.  The 
buccaneer  replied  with  that  toothless  grin  of  far- 
away Tortugas.  Recognition  had  come  to  him. 
"Ho,  brother,"  he  laughed,  "ho,  ho!  I  didn't 
know  ye." 

Anthony  began  to  chuckle  contagiously, 
slapped  his  old  friend  on  the  back  and  fell  to 

114 


ANTHONY  FLUNG  AGAINST  HIM  WITH  ALL  THE  FORCE  OF  DESPERATION 


JOLLY  ROGER 

laughing  heartily  and  long.  The  fearsome 
strangler,  like  a  huge  bear  diverted  by  a  taste  of 
honey,  forgot  the  fight  now  raging  in  the  stern 
and  joined  in  a  hoarse  "Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

Who  can  tell  where  a  battle  turns?  Suppose 
the  French  flag  had  come  down  and  the  black 
flag  had  gone  up !  The  sight  of  such  an  exchange 
would  have  encouraged  the  pirates  to  fiercer 
efforts.  England  might  have  wrested  this  little 
fleet  from  France.  The  control  of  the  Mississippi 
would  then  have  passed  to  another  king. 

With  their  leader  so  cunningly  beguiled  by 
Anthony  that  he  was  quite  out  of  their  sight  and 
forgetting  to  strike  where  his  hand  was  needed 
most,  the  pirates  weakened.  The  desperate 
Frenchmen  succeeded  in  pitching  them  into  the 
sea.  Dejected  they  swam  ashore. 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville  towered  above  them  as 
they  crawled  upon  the  reef.  His  pistols  were 
ready,  his  powder  dry,  all  the  advantage  was  on 
his  side.  He  demanded  their  surrender. 

They  acknowledged  his  victory  and  gave  up 
St.  Christopher. 

Anthony's  sensitive  ears  had  followed  this 
last  part  of  the  foray  as  he  sat  huddled  in  the 
bow.  The  noisy  laugher  did  not  bother  to  notice 
anything.  Anthony  took  a  peep  and  pointed 
out  to  his  friend  that  the  buccaneers  were  al- 
ready in  irons.  He  whispered:  "I  don't  want 
our  soldiers  to  capture  you.  Take  this  plank, 

"5 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

drop  over  the  side,  float  further  down  the  beach 
and  get  away  in  safety." 

"Keep  the  flag,"  mumbled  the  buccaneer; 
"show  it  to  de  Graaf.  If  ever  you  steal  this  ship 
I'll  join  your  crew,"  and  he  disappeared  over  the 
rail. 

When  the  Badine  finally  put  out  into  the  Gulf 
Anthony  went  to  de  Iberville's  cabin  to  report. 
There  he  confronted  himself  in  the  mirror  of  its 
fine  furnishings.  His  rough  hair  was  braided  into 
a  queue  and  tied  back  with  a  bandana.  His 
naked  chest  and  arms  were  dirty,  his  clothes 
were  in  rags  bound  round  with  a  sash.  His 
stockings  had  been  ripped  away.  His  feet  were 
bare.  He  looked  at  the  uncouth  figure  that  he 
presented.  Where  had  he  seen  such  another? 
His  smile  was  gone.  His  voice  was  dull  with 
misery. 

"Tell  me,"  he  demanded,  "what  I  am.  Am 
I  a  patriot  or  am  I  a  pirate?"  With  a  pair  of 
dreadful  blood-stained  hands  he  unfurled  the 
black  flag  of  such  shocking  design. 

The  Sieur  de  Iberville  was  also  much  di- 
sheveled, but  he  answered  with  the  dignity  of  a 
victor.  "The  courts  of  all  civilized  nations  are 
now  busy  with  the  problem:  'When  is  it  right 
for  men  to  fight  on  the  high  seas?'  and  until  that 
is  decided,  if  it  ever  can  be,  you  and  I  must  obey 
our  superior  officers."  He  laid  a  soothing  hand 
on  Anthony's  wounded  shoulder.  "We  have  been 

116 


JOLLY  ROGER 

in  very  bad  company  this  morning,  du  Gay. 
Lest  we  get  into  worse,  let  me  advise  you  to  tie 
a  piece  of  lead  in  that  captured  rag  and  drop  it 
overboard.  Many  a  man  no  worse  than  you  and 
I  has  been  hanged  because  he  carried  the  Jolly 
Roger!" 


VIII 

BROKEN    POTS 

Swashbucklers  of  Spain  Duel  for  the  Food  of  Pierre  Le  Moyne  de  Iber- 
ville — Hunger  Seasons  Sagimity. 

ANTHONY  knelt  before  a  jar  which  held 
/X  perhaps  two  gallons.  It  was  of  red  hand- 
made pottery  open  at  the  top  and  it  had  a 
bail  of  withes.  Low  on  one  side  was  a  hole  lead- 
ing into  the  vessel  between  its  flat  bottom  and 
another  ventilated  over-bottom  to  create  a 
draught.  The  jar  was  filled  with  fat  pine  shav- 
ings and  dry  cones.  He  struck  his  flint  and  after 
several  trials  lighted  some  dry  grass  which  fired 
the  resin  in  the  pine.  Then  the  tiny  clay  stove 
began  to  roar  cheerfully.  Setting  another  crock 
upon  it  and  mixing  in  that  a  very  little  corn 
with  too  much  water  the  Picard  du  Gay  tried  to 
tell  himself  that  he  was  getting  breakfast. 

Provisions  had  run  short  at  this  fort  of 
Biloxi,  and  Anthony,  one  of  the  twenty  men  left 
here  to  guard  the  Great  River's  mouth,  had 
missed  more  meals  than  he  liked  to  count.  The 

118 


BROKEN  POTS 

stockade  on  the  Mississippi  itself  was  no  better 
furnished  with  men  or  food  than  this  one.  The 
main  body  of  the  colony  had  been  moved  several 
times  in  hope  of  better  picking  and  was  now  at  a 
third  fort  on  Mobile  Bay.  Like  all  new  settle- 
ments from  the  beginning  of  time  until  to- 
morrow, this  one  had  not  been  able  to  fit  itself 
to  the  country  about  it  without  making  mistakes. 
One  error  after  another  in  handling  foodstuffs 
had  brought  about  the  catastrophe  of  famine. 

The  sea  was  alive  with  delicious  fare.  There 
were  beds  of  oysters,  runs  of  shrimp,  and  school 
after  school  of  fish.  The  colonists  had  feasted  on 
these  as  on  a  banquet  without  end.  But  they 
suddenly  learned  that  each  had  its  season.  When 
one  day  they  wanted  more  none  were  to  be  had. 
School  was  out  as  far  as  fish  were  concerned. 
Shrijnp  had  run  some  place  else.  In  warm 
weather  oysters  made  the  colonists  sick. 

The  woods  were  full  of  deer,  the  prairies  of 
buffalo,  the  glades  of  turkeys,  the  bayous  of 
waterfowl,  more  meat  than  the  French  could 
eat  in  a  lifetime.  They  did  not  bother  to  jerk 
any  of  these.  Why  should  they  work  to  dry 
flesh  when  there  was  so  much  that  was  fresh  at 
their  very  doors?  The  Indians  prepared  some, 
it  is  true,  but  Indians  themselves  often  take  a 
chance  on  the  future,  and  their  not  too  provident 
example  went  unnoticed  by  the  colonists.  The 

climate  felt  much  the  same  to  the  French  as  that 

119 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

of  their  own  Languedoc;  Languedoc  with  a  gar- 
den added  like  the  Paradise  where  Adam  and 
Eve  gathered  their  daily  bread  from  bushes. 

The  deer  followed  the  spring  northward  for 
croppings  of  new  leaves,  the  buffalo  trotted 
away  on  paths  which  a  lifetime  of  migration  told 
them  led  to  cool  green  grass.  Game  left  for 
Canada.  Even  alligators  dropped  below  reach 
into  the  mud.  (Eating  baked  alligator  tails  is 
never  a  treat;  it  means  that  one  is  very  hungry 
indeed.) 

Once  whole  fields  were  glutted  with  wild 
strawberries  and  blackberries.  Groves  of  mul- 
berries and  plums  abounded.  Luscious  grapes 
clambered  every  hill.  Nobody  dried  or  pre- 
served them.  It  seemed  absurd  to  do  so  when 
there  fell  to  the  ground  every  day  more  than  all 
France  could  have  eaten.  So  the  time  of  these 
fruits  came  and  went  and  nothing  remained  to 
take  their  place. 

Some  of  the  finest  foods  can  be  made  to  grow 
in  the  sandy  soil  of  the  country  back  of  Biloxi 
beach  if  one  knows  how,  but  the  colonists  didn't 
bother  to  inquire,  and  the  only  things  that  were 
now  thriving  under  the  July  sun  were  clouds  of 
mosquitoes. 

Anthony  sipped  his  gruel  and  gazed  over 
toward  Deer  Island.  The  rising  sun  made  the 
channel  look  so  much  like  milk  that  poor  du 
Gay  was  tempted  to  walk  down  and  take  a  taste 

I2O 


BROKEN  POTS 

of  it.  The  pines  were  black  against  the  burning 
sky  and  a  soldier  coming  out  on  the  long  narrow 
point  beyond  them  was  silhouetted  distinctly. 
As  he  went  forward  over  the  low  sand  reef  he  had 
the  effect  of  walking  on  the  water.  His  re- 
flection in  the  white  Gulf  was  as  clear-cut  as 
himself.  Soldier  and  shadow  moved  along 
grotesquely,  and  Anthony  thought  the  whole 
thing  must  be  a  mirage.  But  when  the  soldier 
staggered  and  fell  with  a  very  real  splashing  of 
water,  the  Picard  jumped  into  his  canoe  and 
rowed  across  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

The  soldier  was  a  Frenchman  from  the 
Mississippi  stockade.  Anthony  knew  him,  picked 
him  up  and  supported  him,  gently  bathing  his 
drawn  face  and  questioning  him. 

"See  all  this  pottery,"  cried  the  soldier,  throw- 
ing out  expressive  hands,  "smashed  to  bits! 
Do  you  suppose  these  bowls  had  corn  in  them 
when  they  were  whole?  I  have  followed  a  line 
of  them  out  here  to  see  if  anything  to  eat  had 
been  left  in  them." 

"How  are  the  other  soldiers  at  the  stockade?" 
asked  Anthony,  to  take  his  mind  from  this 
illusion  of  food  caused  by  the  sight  of  the 
scattered  dump  of  Indian  bowls. 

"  Our  stores  are  almost  gone ;  we  are  on  rations. 
We  are  drinking  river  water."  The  soldier  began 
to  weep  childishly.  "I  want  a  drink  from  our 
hillside  spring  in  France.  I  need  my  breakfast!" 

121 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

With  promises  which  he  was  by  no  means 
sure  he  could  keep,  Anthony  put  the  canoe  in 
tow  and  helped  the  soldier  into  his  own  boat  to 
take  him  to  the  fort.  He  had  been  sent  from  the 
stockade  to  beg  for  stores  at  Biloxi.  Hunger- 
weary  he  had  mistaken  Deer  Island  for  the 
beach  and  had  run  his  felucca  ashore  there. 
If  Anthony  had  not  happened  to  see  him  he 
might  have  perished  and  the  remaining  soldiers 
at  the  stockade  have  waited  in  vain  for  the 
return  of  their  messenger. 

It  was  with  a  grave  face  that  Anthony  sailed 
the  soldier's  boat  into  Biloxi  Bay  and  with  a 
still  heavier  heart  that  he  answered  the  hail  of 
another  coastwise  sailing-vessel  which  was 
coming  to  meet  him  from  the  east.  This  second 
man  was  also  a  Frenchman,  one  of  the  colonists 
at  Mobile.  A  glance  at  his  yellow  skin,  sunken 
cheeks,  and  burning  eyes  told  his  whole  story  to 
Anthony.  He,  too,  had  been  sent  to  beg  for 
stores.  There  were  women  and  little  children, 
some  old  priests  and  helpless  slaves  in  Mobile. 

"We  have  eaten  up  our  goats  and  our  pigs; 
only  the  cows  are  left,"  was  the  report  of  the 
Mobile  colonist  as  he  and  the  Mississippi 
soldier  were  brought  into  the  fort  and  presented 
to  the  Biloxi  commandant  by  Anthony.  "The 
Sieur  de  Iberville  sent  some  of  our  men  to  live 
among  the  Indians  who  have  a  little  but  not 
much  more  than  we  ourselves.  He  sailed  some 

122 


BROKEN  POTS 

time  ago  for  France  to  send  provisions  back  to 
us  with  the  greatest  possible  haste.  Until  they 
come  will  you  share  with  us?" 

They  had  nothing  to  share.  The  few  men  still 
at  Dauphin  Island  and  Ship's  Island  were  in 
equal  straits.  From  these  pitiful  beggars  be- 
fore the  commandant  Anthony  turned  and 
looked  out  of  a  loophole  over  the  waste  where 
his  own  and  the  other  settlers'  gardens  should 
have  been  in  toothsome  bearing.  Nothing  was 
growing. 

"I  did  not  come  to  the  New  World  to  raise 
cabbages,"  he  thought,  resentfully.  "I  could 
have  done  that  in  Picardy  without  going  out  of 
my  own  gate.  I  caine  to  seek  my  fortune,  to 
carry  home  a  galleon  of  gold."  He  smiled  rue- 
fully to  think  that  if  he  could  go  back  now  to 
France  he  could  take  little  besides  his  own  bones. 

As  he  felt  so  did  all  the  adventurers.  They 
spent  their  days  in  voyaging  romantically  up  and 
down  the  Great  River  and  through  the  bayous 
and  among  the  islands  round  its  estuary  hunting 
for  the  gold  and  pearls  which  they  expected  to 
see  shining  in  the  sand  or  outcropping  from  the 
banks.  Their  nights  were  taken  up  with  dreams 
of  how  they  should  spend  this  wealth  when  once 
it  was  found  and  shoveled  into  the  boats  and 
taken  to  France. 

To  be  sure,  Anthony  with  the  best  intentions 
had  said  to  his  Indian  flunkies  the  same  thing 

123 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

the  other  Frenchmen  said  to  theirs:  "Plant  me 
some  of  those  juicy  melons  you  know  so  well  how 
to  raise,  and  potatoes  and  plenty  of  maize  and 
beans  for  the  sickquatash,  and  some  of  that 
delightfully  bad  tobacco.  Here  are  imported 
French  seeds  of  cabbages  and  turnips  and  Old 
World  vegetables.  Plant  them  also." 

The  docile  Indians  had  sowed  the  plantations. 
In  the  virgin  alluvial  soil  under  the  warm  spring 
rains  the  astonished  seed  from  Picardy  had 
grown  like  Jack's  beanstalk.  The  Indians 
watching  these  huge  creations  were  filled  with 
superstitious  fears.  When  an  immense  cabbage 
head  had  burst  they  shrieked  in  chorus,  "Bad 
Medicine!"  and  ran  away.  Nothing  could  in- 
duce them  to  return.  So  the  Frenchmen  ordered 
the  negroes — there  were  only  a  handful  of  them 
— "You  tend  the  gardens." 

The  darkies  promised.  They  really  meant  to 
do  so  that  day  or  the  next  or  the  next.  If  the 
masters  had  directed  them  and  stood  over  them 
there  would  have  been  provisions  in  plenty. 
But  the  masters  went  gold-hunting  and  the 
darkies  lay  in  the  shade  and  waited  for  the  weeds 
to  stop  growing  so  they  could  pull  them  all  at 
once.  Now  the  gardens  were  in  ruins  and  the 
owners  hungry. 

"Remorse  is  a  dreadful  thing,"  thought 
Anthony;  "I  can  feel  it  gnawing  at  my  belt  and 
I  am  terribly  ashamed."  He  turned  back  to  the 

124 


BROKEN  POTS 

commandant:  "I  suppose  the  question  is,  shall 
we  ask  alms  of  our  nearest  neighbors,  our  worst 
enemies,  those  cruel  Spaniards  at  Pensacola?" 

As  it  was  quite  impossible  to  send  an  armed 
force  from  the  little  group  of  impoverished,  sick, 
and  famished  colonists  to  enforce  a  request, 
Anthony  offered  to  go  alone  and  beg. 

The  carelessness  and  short-sightedness  of  men 
in  prosperity  has  never  ceased  to  be  a  marvel. 
It  is  equaled  only  by  the  endurance  and  courage 
of  the  same  men  in  trouble.  Every  one  of  the 
miserable  colonists  offered  to  take  the  voyage 
in  Anthony's  place.  So  it  was  arranged  that  if 
he  should  fail  to  return  others  were  to  follow  on 
the  same  mission,  since  Louisiana — which  was 
the  name  of  nearly  half  of  North  America — had 
come  to  such  a  pass  that  she  must  say,  "Give 
me  food  or  I  may  die  in  savagery." 

"Let  me  take  as  attendant  that  Chickasaw 
boy  the  scouts  brought  in  this  morning,"  was 
Anthony's  only  demand.  "I  can  understand  a 
little  of  his  speech  and  perhaps  on  the  voyage  I 
may  coax  from  him  some  news  of  the  tribes 
north  and  learn  why  he  is  unfriendly  toward 


us." 


The  captive  spy  was  promised  his  freedom  if 
he  would  serve  Anthony  as  far  as  Pensacola,  and 
he  went  sullenly  enough  with  the  only  man 
whose  words  he  knew.  Anthony  trusted  to  the 
intimacy  of  two  days  and  a  night  to  learn  from 

125 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

the  Chickasaw  all  he  knew  that  might  serve  the 
French  in  their  distress. 

So  Anthony,  beautifully  groomed  and  dressed 
and  taking  his  Chickasaw  valet,  rigged  a  sail 
to  his  canoe  and  started  for  Pensacola.  In  the 
bow  he  set  his  clay  stove,  some  precious  pounded 
corn  in  a  bowl,  and  a  porous  jar  which  kept 
drinking-water  cool  by  evaporation.  Nobody 
then  and  nobody  now  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Mississippi  can  get  along  without  a  crock. 

A  vein  of  earth,  a  perfect  potter's  clay,  out- 
crops on  the  lower  reaches  of  the  Great  River. 
The  fingers  of  prehistoric  Indian  children  itched 
to  mold  splendid  mud-pies  just  like  the  scarcely 
more  skilful  children  of  our  times  do  on  those 
same  shores.  No  one  knows  who  turned  the 
first  dish,  dried  it  or  baked  it  and  painted  it 
with  stripes  of  color. 

A  primitive  clay  stove  sails  up  and  down  the 
river  and  into  the  Gulf  in  almost  every  fisher- 
man's boat  to-day,  just  as  it  did  on  Anthony's 
trip.  Big  crocks  in  prosaic  trucks  now  go 
merchandizing  over  the  same  Mississippi  regions 
where  once  they  traveled  by  picturesque  Indian 
pick-a-back.  On  many  southern  window-sills 
the  water- jars  are  still  cooling  in  a  draught. 

Bricks  for  building  houses  on  the  river,  tiles 
for  roofing  them  and  terra-cotta  for  ornamenting 
them,  began  to  be  manufactured  early  in  the 
history  of  the  colony.  In  the  city  of  New  Orleans 

126 


BROKEN  POTS 

are  potteries  which  have  raised  the  making  of 
mud-pies  into  a  beautiful  art.  Here  and  there 
throughout  the  Mississippi  system  are  talented 
dreamers  who  turn  the  clay  into  inspiring  groups 
of  the  sculptor's  art. 

Sailing  along  the  banks  of  pottery  clay, 
Anthony  measured  out  his  bowl  of  corn  and 
wondered  if  he  could  make  it  do  for  the  Chick- 
asaw  and  himself.  As  he  sped  under  drive  of 
wind  and  push  of  oar  he  glimpsed  at  intervals 
those  great  heaps  of  empty  oyster-shells,  the 
kitchen-middens,  which  proved  that  somebody 
in  far-away  days  had  feasted  long  and  well  on 
these  now  starving  shores.  It  was  not  so  very 
far  by  way  of  the  coast  to  Pensacola  Bay,  and 
in  good  time  he  put  into  the  harbor  and  asked 
for  the  governor  of  the  post,  one  Don  Francisco 
Martin.  He  was  taken  to  an  officer  of  the  fort, 
and  this  is  what  was  said: 

"I  am  Anthony  Auguelle,  the  Picard  du  Gay, 
representing  the  French  of  Louisiana  in  a  mes- 
sage to  your  governor." 

"You  are  a  companion  of  the  buccaneer  pilot 
Lawrence  de  Graaf.  I  saw  you  both  on  the 
Badine.  You  are  assigned  to  a  dungeon  on 
bread  and  water." 

"In  the  name  of  France  I  demand  an  au- 
dience." 

"In  the  name  of  Spain  I  will  recommend  you 
127 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

to  the  Don  Martin  when  he  has  nothing  else  to 
notice." 

A  prison  is  a  dreadful  thing ;  a  Spanish  dungeon 
the  worst  of  all  forms  of  confinement.  The 
cruelties  of  the  Inquisition  which  made  such 
underground  holes  possible  still  sicken  the 
thoughts  of  a  civilized  world.  But  Anthony  was 
so  spent  with  weariness  that  he  ate  his  plain 
bread  greedily — it  was  the  first  wheat  bread  he 
had  tasted  for  months — and  gulped  the  water 
gratefully.  The  darkness  was  a  relief  to  his 
sand-dazzled  eyes  and  the  cold  stones  felt  good 
to  a  sun-blistered  back.  He  slept  around  the 
clock  and  clambered  the  ladder  from  his  cell 
on  the  point  of  a  bayonet  at  the  bidding  of  the 
officer.  He  was  in  good  spirits.  The  only  really 
bad  thing  about  a  dungeon  is  to  have  to  stay  in  it. 

The  Don  Francisco  Martin  thought  it  a  good 
plan,  whenever  possible,  to  give  his  rivals  of 
France  and  England  a  taste  of  his  dungeon. 
But  life  was  so  dull  at  the  outpost  of  Pensacola 
and  his  curiosity  about  a  French  message  was 
so  great  that  he  granted  an  audience  in  the 
courtyard  on  this  second  day. 

"You  are  lately  come  from  Paris,"  said  the 
don,  noting  the  cut  of  Anthony's  fine  coat. 
"  Before  we  proceed  to  business  we  will  entertain 
ourselves  like  gentlemen.  I'm  sure  it  will  give 
you  pleasure  to  show  us  the  newest  feints  in 
fencing.  Luckily  I  have  three  swordsmen  at 

128 


BROKEN  POTS 

hand  to  prove  your  skill,"  and  he  nodded  to  his 
gaoler,  who  picked  up  one  of  those  immense 
brass  keys  which  the  Spaniards  used  with  such 
gruesome  effect,  and  went  rattling  down  a  shell- 
paved  corridor. 

Anthony  looked  at  the  smiling,  whiskered  don 
and  he  felt  like  a  mouse  under  a  tom-cat's 
claws.  He  viewed  the  garrison  of  rowdies 
crowding  up  to  see  a  fight,  and  at  the  hot, 
empty  sky,  with  narrowed  eyes,  as  one  who 
expects  his  only  help  from  heaven. 

Imagine  his  astonishment  when  the  gaoler 
came  clanking  back  with  de  Graaf  a  very 
shadow  of  himself,  a  toothless  buccaneer  much 
the  worse  for  imprisonment,  and  a  big  Spaniard 
all  gone  to  nerves. 

Anthony  covertly  scanned  the  sky  more  than 
once  as  he  listened  to  the  don's  mocking  words: 
"All  these  soldiers  of  fortune  have  arms  with 
them;  you  shall  cross  swords.  Who  survives  the 
duel  gets  his  freedom  and  his  request."  And 
the  sarcasm,  "A  gentleman's  game  for  gentle- 
men!" 

Now  Anthony  Auguelle  did  not  belong  to  the 
blood  royal.  The  don  was  sure  of  that.  The 
Picard  du  Gay  had  become  a  gentleman  in 
heart  and  appearance  through  association  with 
the  best  explorers  of  his  time.  But  under  the 
lash  of  the  Spaniard's  tongue  he  thought  it  best 

to  affect  that  haughty  bearing  supposed  to  be 

129 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

one  of  the  marks  of  a  title.  And  he  thought  this 
the  right  time  to  use  the  bits  of  news  he  had 
gained  from  the  Chickasaw. 

"I  will  not  kill  de  Graaf,"  he  declared,  "for 
you,  Don  Martin,  need  him  to  read  a  message 
in  the  air,"  and  he  waved  his  hand  dramatically 
toward  puffs  of  smoke  which  he  had  at  last 
discovered  floating  in  the  northern  sky. 

The  don  stood  up.  The  sentries  ran  for  their 
neglected  posts.  The"'  soldiers  sprang  to  arms. 
Every  neck  was  craned.  As  a  hint  to  de  Graaf, 
Anthony  gave  a  meaning  gesture  toward  the 
Chickasaw  at  his  heels,  and  de  Graaf,  who  lived 
by  his  wits,  was  ready  to  answer  with  confidence 
when  the  surprise  abated:  "That,  Don  Martin, 
is  the  signal  of  the  Chickasaws  who  are  coming 
toward  your  fort  to  besiege  it.  I  heard  their 
war-drums  along  the  coast  before  I  was  taken 
by  your  men." 

The  don  turned  to  Anthony,  who  touched  the 
Chickasaw,  who  in  turn  spoke  a  gruff  word  to  a 
Spanish  interpreter.  It  meant  that  his  tribe 
were  in  arms.  De  Graaf  was  thus  confirmed  in 
his  statement. 

The  don's  brows  were  drawn;  his  eyes  grew 
keen. 

"I  will  not  kill  the  buccaneer,"  cried  Anthony 
again.  "I  throw  him  a  purse  of  gold  instead," 
suiting  his  action  to  his  boast,  "and  so  will  you, 
Don  Martin,  when  he  tells  you  what  he  knows." 

130 


BROKEN  POTS 

While  the  don  stared  at  Anthony,  that 
gambler  with  fate,  smiling  at  the  buccaneer, 
began  to  chuckle  and  then  to  laugh.  The  sea- 
robber  responded  like  a  child  with  a  tickled  rib. 
"Tell  the  don,  my  bully  boy" — here  Anthony 
spoke  slowly  to  be  sure  he  had  the  Anglo-Saxon 
words — "what  the  Carolina  English  will  do  to 
Pensacola  and  to  Biloxi." 

"Ho-ho-ho!"  roared  the  buccaneer.  "It's  a 
secret.  I  must  not  tell." 

"When  I  and  the  Chickasaw  and  de  Graaf 
know  it,  it  is  a  secret  no  longer.  Tell  the  don 
and  save  your  neck." 

Like  the  unthinking  dog  he  was,  the  buccaneer 
obeyed  Anthony  as  his  master  and  declared, 
"English  ships  are  ready  to  come  down  the 
Atlantic  in  double  force  to  surprise  you." 

The  don  considered  his  four  sources  of  in- 
formation. He  did  not  for  one  moment  doubt 
Anthony's  honesty;  nobody  ever  did.  It  was 
plain  that  the  news  was  true. 

"By  Chickasaws  on  land  and  English  on  sea 
French  and  Spaniards  are  to  be  cracked  like 
bugs  between  two  boards.  What  is  your  advice, 
du  Gay?" 

The  answer  was  prompt:  "Release  my  Chick- 
asaw and  your  buccaneer  to  tell  their  different 
peoples  the  plot  is  discovered.  It  will  not  be 
carried  out  this  time.  It  is  much  easier  to  dis- 
courage than  it  is  to  defeat  the  English.  Send 

13 1 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

de  Graaf  to  warn  the  fort  at  Mobile  and  let  the 
Indian  and  the  buccaneer  see  him  get  away  so 
they  may  report  that  too." 

Then  the  don  grinned:  "It  shall  be  done.  I 
would  I  had  you  for  a  friend,  du  Gay.  You 
release  your  admirers  in  trios,  throw  pardons 
with  a  king's  hand.  What  for  yourself?" 

"When  I  rid  us  of  this  swordsman  I  shall  ask 
a  boon,"  and  he  turned  to  the  Spanish  prisoner. 
It  would  not  help  Anthony's  cause  to  disappoint 
the  garrison  who  pined  to  see  a  fight.  Thus 
Anthony  took  the  ring  with  the  swagger  of  a 
matador  and  the  spirit  of  a  game-cock. 

Luck  had  followed  him  so  far.  A  whole  loaf 
of  bread  had  filled  his  worst  need  and  he  drew 
his  blade  with  confidence.  The  big  Spanish 
jailbird  was  both  strong  and  skilful,  but  two 
weeks  in  a  black  dungeon  with  rats,  lice,  and  the 
fear  of  hanging  had  given  him  a  wild  eye  and  a 
shaking  hand.  He  thrust  strongly  but  not  well. 
He  was  desperate  and  erratic.  In  normal  health 
he  could  have  split  Anthony  like  a  rabbit,  but 
not  to-day. 

During  the  first  few  minutes  it  was  more  a 
game  of  tag  than  fencing.  The  two  jumped 
about  as  though  they  were  grasshoppers.  An- 
thony's one  idea  was  to  save  himself  from  the 
half-insane  Spaniard.  In  a  little  while  the  big 
one  began  to  weaken.  Then  Anthony  thought 
it  proper  to  amuse  the  spectators  by  airing  the 

132 


BROKEN  POTS 

fancy  thrusts  and  feints  and  all  the  fads  that 
he  had  practised  in  Paris.  Cheer  followed 
cheer.  This  was  what  they  wanted  to  see.  The 
don  himself  was  longing  for  just  such  a  show. 
So  Anthony  continued  it  as  long  as  he  thought 
the  Spaniard  could  stand  up ;  on  guard  for  bursts 
of  passion  on  his  opponent's  part. 

It  was  a  sorry  game. 

Anthony,  bent  on  winning  his  own  ends, 
cared  nothing  for  the  ethics  of  a  duel.  When 
he  saw  his  man  ready  to  drop  he  thrust  forward 
and  pinned  him  against  a  post.  But  he  did  not 
drive  his  sword  through  the  Spaniard,  as  was 
his  right,  as  the  don  nodded  permission,  and  as 
the  whole  colony  now  assembled  whooped  and 
howled  and  begged  for  him  to  do.  Instead,  he 
signaled  the  crowd  to  silence  and,  withdrawing 
his  blade,  wiped  it  airily  on  a  bit  of  lace  kerchief 
and  announced:  "I  present  his  life  to  the  fort. 
He  is  expert.  Such  will  do  good  work  against 
the  Chickasaw." 

The  crowd,  who  a  minute  before  would  have 
been  glad  to  see  his  blood  spurt,  now  greeted 
the  Spaniard  with  hurrahs,  dragged  him  to  the 
kitchen,  and  feasted  him.  Pensacola,  a  much 
older  place  than  Biloxi,  had  learned  to  conserve 
its  products.  There  was  no  food  shortage 
among  these  Spaniards. 

Don  Francisco  Martin  seemed  to  be  regretting 
that  irony  about  gentlemen.    He  gave  Anthony 
10  133 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

a  friendly  hand  and  said,  sincerely,  "I  will  be 
glad  to  grant  you  any  request  I  can." 

And  the  Picard  du  Gay  said,  simply,  as  one 
man  to  another,  ''My  people  are  starving; 
unless  you  feed  us  we  must  perish." 

So  a  ship  was  loaded  with  stores.  Lest  the 
hunger- wild  Frenchmen  should  eat  food  without 
proper  cooking  and  thus  add  an  epidemic  to 
their  woes,  the  don  ordered  the  half-deck 
covered  with  great  bowls.  Each  was  filled  with 
the  savory  stew  of  venison  and  corn  or  rice  and 
dried  fish  which  the  Indians  dub  sagimity. 

And  who  shall  say  how  that  ship  came  in? 
The  starving  French,  lost  to  all  feeling  but  the 
primitive  call  of  hunger,  thronged  the  bay  to 
watch  her  drop  anchor.  They  wept  aloud  and 
gurgled  with  laughter.  They  danced  and  hugged 
one  another.  They  rushed  into  the  water, 
stretching  bony  fingers ;  got  beyond  their  depth, 
and  had  to  be  rescued  with  scoldings  and  ridicule 
in  the  midst  of  the  utmost  confusion.  When  the 
boat  began  to  unload,  the  grateful  French  kissed 
the  hands  of  their  enemies,  the  Spaniards,  and 
knelt  to  bathe  their  feet  with  happy  tears. 

As  the  sagimity  came  to  shore  they  fell  upon 
it  and  guzzled  like  kittens  in  the  cream,  quite 
unashamed.  They  stood  upon  the  beach  to  sup 
and  to  feed  one  another.  From  one  bowl  to 
another  they  hurried,  abandoning  this,  shoving 
it  aside  for  that,  running  to  another,  stepping 

134 


BROKEN  POTS 

on  it,  heedlessly  crushing  it  down  into  fragments. 
They  had  endured  slow  starvation  with  pathetic 
dignity,  but  the  smell  and  sight  of  savory  stew 
was  too  much  for  decorum,  and  half  the  emptied 
jars  were  thrown  aside  with  a  crash  in  the  mad 
rush  for  full  ones. 

Many  settlements  have  perished  for  lack  of 
food.  Starvation  is  an  ill  as  old  as  the  human 
race.  It  shows  its  skeleton  head  at  some  place 
on  our  globe  almost  every  year  of  the  world. 
The  Great  River  itself  has  had  many  hungry 
times,  but  none  quite  so  strange  as  this  one 
when  lifelong  foes  became  friends  and  the 
beach  was  strewn  with  fragments  of  the  crockery 
brought  by  the  rescuers. 

The  Indians,  who,  while  waiting  their  turn 
at  the  feast,  looked  on  at  the  uncontrollable 
appetites  of  the  succored  French,  pointed  with 
stolid  significance  to  the  long  pile  of  ruined 
dishes  on  the  beach  of  Deer  Island. 

When  Anthony,  offering  food  to  them,  asked 
what  they  meant,  they  answered:  "What  has 
happened  once  can  happen  again  and  yet  again. 
In  the  time  of  our  fathers  we,  too,  were  fed  by 
enemies  as  you  are  saved  to-day,  and  there  we 
got  our  name,  for  the  guardian  Indians  of  the 
Mississippi  are  called  Biloxi,  and  the  word 
Biloxi  means  the  Broken  Pots," 


IX 


THE  SLAVE   SHIP 

A  Hurricane  Brings  Odd  Guests  to  His  Colony  for  the  Governor,  Jean- 
Baptiste  Le  Moyne  de  Bienville — Voodoo  in  Rag-time 

O  HOUTING  of  white  men,  screaming  of  black 
O  ones,  startled  Anthony  as  he  came  down 
the  main  street  of  the  port  town  called  New 
Orleans  in  honor  of  the  regent  duke  of  France. 

"That  must  be  a  brawl  in  the  slave-mart," 
was  his  first  thought  as  he  began  to  run.  He 
wanted  to  be  at  hand  if  the  Sieur  de  Bienville 
needed  him  to  help  quell  it. 

Several  bad  colonists,  with  worse  slaves,  had 
joined  the  Mississippi  French  by  crossing  over 
from  the  West  Indies  in  small  boats  at  amazing 
risk.  They  navigated  from  point  to  point  in  fair 
weather  through  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  heavy 
seas  were  avoided  when  possible.  The  water- 
ways in  the  protected  channels  between  the 
coast-line  islands  had  made  the  voyage  possible. 
Vessels  now  entered  the  Mississippi  by  way  of  the 
east  through  Lake  Pont  chart  rain,  a  much  safer 
path  than  through  the  Delta. 

136 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

They  had  brought  with  them  blackamoors 
and  several  kegs  of  rum. 

New  Orleans  had  not  been  glad  to  see  them. 
But  the  Sieur  de  Bienville  had  given  each 
slave-owner  a  parcel  of  land  on  which  to  build 
shelters  and  lay  out  gardens.  He  hoped  to  keep 
the  masters  busy  and  the  negroes  so  separated 
that  they  would  work  quietly.  He  tried  to 
make  both  classes  add  to  the  usefulness  of  the 
port.  The  very  good  plan  did  not  prove  a  suc- 
cess. In  less  than  a  week  here  were  the  new- 
comers back  in  the  heart  of  the  town,  turning  the 
orderly  market-place  into  a  scene  of  riot. 
Drunken  owners  were  beating  drunken  servants. 

The  scandalized  settlers  had  already  called 
out  their  French  soldiers  against  the  renegades 
from  the  West  Indies.  The  uniformed  ranks 
passed  Anthony  at  double-quick  as  he  hurried 
along.  By  the  time  he  had  gained  the  open 
square  where  the  auction-block  stood  the  un- 
popular white  immigrants,  doubly  guarded, 
were  on  their  way  to  the  only  prison  the  settle- 
ment could  boast. 

The  slaves  still  lay  about  in  disgraceful  sodden 
heaps.  The  Sieur  de  Bienville,  self-possessed 
and  active,  was  already  giving  commands  to 
have  them  carried  to  the  different  plantations 
where  they  belonged.  By  the  marks  on  their 
ears  they  were  sorted  out  like  cattle  at  a  fair. 

Young  de  Bienville,  passionately  ashamed  at 

137 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

such  a  scene  and  full  of  pity  for  the  ill-treated 
blacks,  was  going  among  them  and  examining 
their  injuries. 

"To  make  these  poor  creatures  suffer  so 
lessens  their  usefulness  for  days.  Ten  thousand 
livres'  worth  of  damage  has  been  done  to  valu- 
able human  chattels  in  the  last  half -hour,"  he 
cried,  indignantly.  "When  I  shall  have  power 
to  dictate  a  black  code,  and  strength  to  enforce 
it,  no  slave  shall  be  abused  nor  given  rum  to 
drink." 

He  looked  to  Anthony  for  sympathy.  He  did 
not  get  it,  for  that  witness  of  the  reformer's  vow 
was  leaning  over  a  prostrate  bleeding  slave. 
Anthony's  face  was  not  sorrowful,  but  full  of  the 
liveliest  interest.  This  slave  was  old  and  wizened 
and,  what  was  a  rare  thing  to  see,  his  wool  was 
as  white  as  a  dandelion  puff.  Anthony  gazed  at 
him  as  though  he  had  found  a  gem. 

"What  now?"  demanded  the  Sieur  de  Bien- 
ville,  shocked  at  Anthony's  callous  pose. 

"Listen!"  whispered  Anthony,  "listen!  He 
groans  in  a  high  minor  key.  When  he  cries  with 
pain  his  wailings  take  the  form  of  a  most  unusual 
rhythm,  as  if  he  were  singing  to  express  his  woe. 
These  blacks  are  different  from  our  own  slaves. 
They  have  another  form  of  patois  and  they  may 
also  have  a  new  kind  of  music." 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville's  blue  eyes  went  dark 
with  disgust.  "You  are  all  ears  and  tongue, 

138 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

Tony;  you  act  as  though  you  had  no  soul." 
And  he  stalked  away,  resolving  to  add  to  his 
code,  "Slaves  shall  be  authorized  to  give  in- 
formation against  heartless  masters." 

Anthony's  curiosity  was  not  really  unkind. 
It  was  a  matter  of  business.  He  was  the  one 
whom  the  French  settlers  expected  to  act  as 
interpreter  for  them  in  a  land  where  every 
Indian  tribe  spoke  a  different  language  and 
every  set  of  blacks  had  another  jargon.  For 
that  reason  Anthony  was  usually  attended  by 
some  Indian  boy  whom  he  had  picked  up  on  one 
of  his  many  exploring  voyages  with  the  Sieur 
de  Bienville.  Any  such  Indian  acted  as  a  tutor 
to  Anthony  in  his  own  particular  dialect  and  as 
a  servant  to  his  master's  whims.  So  it  hap- 
pened that  Anthony  was  now  attended  in  the 
market-place  by  a  red  slip  of  a  Chouacha.  And 
when  the  white-headed  blackamoor  could  not 
be  brought  to  consciousness  at  once  it  was  the 
Chouacha  who  bathed  and  dressed  the  wounds 
caused  by  a  metal-tipped  whip  and  who  carried 
the  sighing,  singing  wretch  to  a  cot  in  Anthony's 
own  cabin. 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville  would  have  been  still 
further  provoked  and  perplexed  could  he  have 
seen  how  Anthony  spent  the  whole  day  hanging 
over  his  patient.  When  he  found  that  his  voice 
could  not  mimic  the  delicate  falsetto  notes 
which  came  through  the  old  darky's  thick  lips, 

139 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

he  got  out  his  violin  and  caught  many  of  the 
curious  sobbing  sounds.  In  the  intervals  of 
nursing  he  practised  on  its  strings  the  elusive 
strains  of  this  weird  music. 

Within  the  next  few  days  the  men  from  the 
West  Indies  were  forced  to  put  up  some  of  their 
slaves  for  sale,  to  pay  the  expenses  of  their 
debauch.  So  Anthony  again  hastened  to  the 
market-place  to  see  what  was  going  on. 

Atop  of  the  block  in  the  noise  and  jostling  of  a 
rapidly  moving  auction  stood,  one  after  another, 
several  splendid  blackamoors  shining  like  lac- 
quered teakwood,  grinning  good-naturedly,  and 
rolling  white,  conceited  eyes  which  told  that 
each  knew  he  was  worth  a  bag  of  livres.  Oddly 
enough,  they  had  none  of  the  humility  which 
marked  the  French  slaves.  Something  over- 
confident, reckless,  defiant,  was  in  the  manner 
of  them  all. 

"Tell  me,  Tony,  what  is  the  stir  among  these 
people?"  demanded  the  Sieur  de  Bienville.  "I 
don't  understand  it  and  I  don't  like  it.  Is  there 
mischief  coming?"  He  was  giving  serious  at- 
tention to  this  sale  of  blacks.  He  was  lieutenant 
of  the  governor;  much  care  fell  upon  him.  He 
was  thinking:  "I  am  going  to  replace  this 
haphazard  handling  of  live  men  with  a  better 
system.  It  will  be  both  humane  and  economical 
to  enforce  a  set  of  rules  to  protect  a  slave  from 
violence  and  the  master  from  loss." 

140 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

His  thoughts  began  to  take  the  form  of  that 
book  of  regulations  which  were  afterward  com- 
pleted by  French  statesmen,  approved  by  the 
king,  made  laws  under  the  famous  title  of  the 
Black  Code,  and  finally  enforced  throughout  the 
valley  of  the  Great  River. 

He  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  freeing  all 
the  blacks.  Slavery  of  negroes  was  a  part  of  the 
social  system  of  those  days.  No  one  dreamed  of 
questioning  its  right.  The  Sieur  de  Bienville  was 
one  of  the  first  men  on  the  continent  to  demand 
justice  or  mercy  for  a  blackamoor. 

Jean-Baptiste  Le  Moyne — for  that  was  the 
Sieur  de  Bienville's  name — was  a  French-Cana- 
dian aristocrat,  fair,  beautiful,  rich,  and  carefully 
reared.  In  his  noble  impulse  was  the  beginning 
of  the  development  of  the  captive  race. 

More  than  a  hundred  years  after  this  time 
another  youth,  dark,  plain,  poor,  and  self- 
educated,  of  that  pioneer  American  race  which 
followed  the  French  to  the  Mississippi,  left  his 
flatboat  at  the  dock  in  New  Orleans  and  came  to 
stand  in  this  same  market-place.  Like  the  Sieur 
de  Bienville,  he  felt  his  heart  contract  with  pity, 
his  sense  of  justice  stir.  He  used  the  blunt  speech 
of  the  modern  midwest  instead  of  the  elegant 
French  of  the  early  south,  but  he  was  of  the 
same  mind  when  he  said  of  that  slavery  which 
the  auction-block  revealed,  "If  I  ever  have  a 
chance  to  hit  that  thing,  I'll  hit  it  hard!" 

141 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Like  Bienville,  too,  he  carried  out  his  resolu- 
tion. During  the  Civil  War  when  north  and 
south  were  quarreling  as  to  whether  freedom  or 
slavery  should  prevail,  this  same  American 
pioneer  set  his  signature,  Abraham  Lincoln,  to 
an  Emancipation  Proclamation.  Because  of  his 
power  as  President  of  the  United  States  and' 
commander  of  the  army  and  navy  he  freed  four 
million  slaves. 

But  the  Sieur  de  Bienville  did  not  want  any 
such  great  change.  His  plans,  as  he  watched  the 
auction,  were  for  minor  reforms,  and  he  kept  a 
wary  eye  on  the  restless  slaves  all  about  him. 
His  stockades,  his  soldiers,  his  armament  for  the 
protection  of  his  settlers,  were  in  perfect  order. 
Plots  and  mutiny  among  the  blacks  were  not 
uncommon. 

Anthony  was  waiting  for  a  bid  to  be  set  upon 
the  white-headed  one  whom  he  had  rescued  and 
who  was  to  be  sold  for  debt.  ' '  Damaged  goods, ' ' 
quoth  he,  "will  be  sold  at  a  bargain.  Such 
are  'poor  men's  slaves.'  I'll  buy  my  tuneful 
cripple." 

When  the  little  old  man  was  hoisted  to  the 
block,  he  stared  at  the  crowd  of  slaves  in  a 
manner  both  cunning  and  defiant.  They 
answered  as  though  he  had  spoken,  by  a  curious 
stirring  among  themselves.  He  drew  them 
toward  him  as  by  a  magnet;  he  was  full  of  a 
sense  of  power.  Anthony  and  the  Sieur  de 

142 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

Bienville  could  make  nothing  of  this  under- 
current among  all  the  blacks. 

After  having  bought  him  at  half-price  and 
having  spent  many  more  hours  jabbering  with 
him,  fiddling  his  one  tune  in  gayer  syncopated 
time  and  trying  to  tame  him,  the  Picard  du  Gay 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  had  spent  his  money 
for  a  cotton-crowned  sinner  who  had  some  evil 
work  in  hand  and  who  would  bear  watching. 

When,  therefore,  the  black  slipped  like  a 
shadow  from  their  gallery  at  dusk,  Anthony 
beckoned  the  Chouacha  and  together  they  took 
his  trail.  It  was  a  gloomy  evening,  and  so  sly 
was  he  in  looking  back  that  they  had  to  follow 
at  long  distances. 

On  the  crooked  path  he  made  they  almost  lost 
him.  If  it  were  not  for  other  black  prowlers — • 
very  many  of  them — going  to  the  same  lonesome 
group  of  moss-bearded  live-oaks,  even  the  Indian 
might  have  missed  him  altogether. 

The  grove  was  surrounded  by  numerous 
sentinels.  Alone  Anthony  could  not  have  stolen 
in.  But  no  black  man  can  outwit  an  Indian  on 
his  native  ground,  so  the  Chouacha  set  his 
moccasined  feet  on  dry  twigs,  crisp  palmetto, 
and  grinding  rocks  without  making  a  sound,  and 
Anthony  in  similar  gear  followed  him,  unheard 
and  unseen,  to  a  clump  of  bushes  overlooking  the 
meeting-place. 

There  was  a  mystic,  wavering,  half -smothered 

143 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

fire  in  the  center  of  the  group,  which  included, 
to  Anthony's  alarm,  both  the  West-Indian 
blacks  and  the  New  Orleans  negroes.  There  was 
an  appalling  crowd  of  them.  The  ancient  one, 
Anthony's  own,  was  the  center  of  the  horde  and 
its  chief  spirit. 

Slaves  were  not  allowed  to  carry  weapons,  not 
even  heavy  sticks,  yet  this  old  man  was  passing 
around  knives  enough  to  arm  them  all.  Anthony 
clasped  his  hand  to  his  belt.  His  own  knife  was 
gone !  The  slaves  had  stolen  from  their  masters ! 
This  display  of  knives  augured  ill  for  some  one. 
The  whole  concourse  looked  sinister,  the  old 
leader  horribly  so. 

Anthony  began  to  be  worried.  Unarmed 
slaves  in  mutiny  were  bad  enough,  but  if  each 
carried  an  unsuspected  knife  he  might  do 
dreadful  murders.  Together  this  band  of  plotters 
could  destroy  the  colony. 

The  Chouacha  was  stolid,  but  even  he  could 
see  that  a  massacre  was  on  foot.  Anthony  tried 
to  tell  himself  that  this  meeting  might  be  only 
some  savage  fresh-meat  feast  or  barbecue. 
While  his  better  thoughts  said  this,  the  cold 
sinking  pit  of  his  stomach  told  him  otherwise. 

The  Picard  du  Gay  had  seen  many  red  dances, 
but  never  a  black  one.  His  numbed  brain  could 
not  give  in  detail  afterward  the  little  he  witnessed 
of  this.  The  old  man  led  the  singing  of  that 
same  moaning,  diabolical  song  which  Anthony 

144 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

had  caught  on  his  fiddle-strings.  All  the  slaves 
singing  it  marched  round  him,  while  he  alone 
danced  barefooted  in  and  out  of  the  living  fire, 
treading  down  the  coals  as  though  they  were 
leaves.  He  conjured  with  toads;  he  drooled 
incantations;  his  nose-ring  flopped;  his  amulets 
rattled. 

The  sultriness  of  the  swamp  oppressed  the 
watchers.  The  air  was  heavy  and  ominously 
still,  as  though  a  storm  were  coming.  Anthony 
began  to  have  all  sorts  of  ticklings;  something 
might  be  crawling  on  his  neck  or  coiling  round 
his  ankles.  He  wanted  to  get  away  and  run  to 
tell  the  French  of  possible  danger.  He  could 
not  stir;  the  dance  had  hypnotized  him. 

Something  glistening  slid  along  a  tree  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  firelit  group.  It  thrust  a 
serpent's  head  into  the  light.  The  old  man 
rested  a  hand  upon  it.  As  the  thing  shook  the 
man  shook;  as  the  man  shook  all  the  blacks 
shook.  Their  bodies  quivered,  their  eyes  rolled, 
the  very  ground  seemed  to  tremble.  Anthony 
felt  the  contagion  spreading  over  him  from  top 
to  toe. 

Voodoo!  The  wizened  old  blackamoor  was  a 
wizard!  Voodoo! 

"I  go,"  whispered  the  Chouacha,  "to  rouse 
the  town!" 

Was  Anthony  afraid?  Certainly  not!  Did 
he  believe  he  could  be  changed  by  an  evil  charm 

145 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

into  a  beast?  Of  course  he  didn't !  But  he  hated 
snakes;  and  in  his  nervousness  he  did  an  unwise 
thing.  He  leveled  his  pistol  through  an  opening 
in  the  bushes,  drew  a  delicate  bead  on  that 
wavering  demon,  and  with  one  quick,  splitting, 
banging  shot  he  blew  away  the  serpent's  head. 

The  voodoo  doctor  was  almost  stunned.  A 
full  moment  of  tense  silence  followed  this  un- 
expected sorcery.  Then  the  sky  was  crossed 
from  side  to  side  with  a  great  white  bolt  of  fire. 
By  its  light  all  saw  the  distant  Chouacha  running. 
Then  came  crash  on  crash  of  thunder  in  the 
sudden  darkness.  On  the  ears  of  the  frenzied 
voodoo  dancers  it  beat  like  the  summons  of  a 
tom-tom.  The  voodoo  himself  answered  with  a 
shout. 

Brandishing  their  knives,  they  followed  him 
in  a  roaring  mob  as  he  started  after  the  Chouacha 
to  hoodoo  their  masters  and  all  the  race  of 
whites. 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville,  always  suspicious  of 
the  colonists  from  the  West  Indies,  was  armed, 
as  usual,  and  ready  to  respond  at  once  to  the 
Chouacha' s  alarm. 

He  had  often  given  the  soldiers  orders  not  to 
shoot  any  valuable  negroes  who  might  run 
amuck.  They  were  to  be  clubbed  into  submis- 
sion, but  not  killed.  Now  he  changed  his  com- 
mand to:  "Powder  and  ball!  Shoottokill!"  The 
Ghouacha's  warning  was  not  a  minute  too  soon. 

146 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

What  a  struggle  that  was!  The  negroes  had 
not  believed  the  whites  would  be  ready.  The 
whites  had  not  imagined  the  negroes  would  be 
so  well  armed.  The  clash  was  something  of  a 
surprise  to  both.  There  have  been  many 
bloody  uprisings  among  the  New  World  blacks, 
many  pathetic  and  losing  rebellions,  but  none 
fraught  with  such  consequences  as  the  memor- 
able one  in  New  Orleans.  Were  white  men  to 
hold  the  Mississippi  port  and  its  lands  for  their 
kind  of  civilization,  or  was  New  France  to  be- 
come a  negro  republic  as  Santo  Domingo  and 
Haiti  did?  That,  was  what  the  quarrel  meant. 
That  was  why  it  became  a  fight  to  the  death  on 
both  sides. 

If  after  two  centuries  of  development  and 
training  a  President  of  the  United  States  could 
say  of  the  American  soldiers  who  helped  the 
island  of  Cuba  win  her  freedom,  "Our  colored 
troops  fought  well  at  San  Juan,"  what  might 
not  be  said  of  the  desperate  bravery  with  which 
the  West-Indian  fanatics  fought  that  long-ago 
battle  in  the  streets  of  New  Orleans  when  the 
voodoo  doctor  led  them  to  make  a  strike  for 
themselves?  Here  also  the  blacks  fought  well — 
too  well  for  the  safety  of  their  cruel  masters. 

The  howling  of  the  storm,  darkness  broken  by 
the  awful  lightning,  accompanied  the  mob  as  it 
attacked  and  the  French  citizens  as  they  de- 
fended themselves. 

147 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

At  the  same  time,  during  that  strange  and 
terrible  hour  there  came  laboring  out  of  the  Gulf, 
as  vanguard  of  the  wind,  an  old  ship  seeking  a 
place  of  shelter.  She  was  rickety  and  rotten, 
ancient  and  condemned,  fit  for  no  decent  use. 
And  so  she  had  been  taken  to  hold  a  cargo  of  the 
veriest  misery  on  earth,  a  tribe  of  stolen  blacks. 

Some  sorely  hurt  by  the  pitching  ship,  some 
dying,  some  already  dead,  all  without  hope  dur- 
ing the  long,  hard  voyage,  the  ill-fated  ship  bore 
them  through  the  Great  River's  mouth  and  to 
the  port  at  New  Orleans  where  raged  this  battle 
of  the  races. 

A  flash  showed  her  coming  on  like  some  huge 
swollen  image  in  a  dream,  magnified  by  clouds 
and  lightning.  The  plotters  and  the  planters 
alike  paused  in  mid- action  to  blink  at  what  they 
could  not  believe  they  really  saw.  By  the  next 
flash  the  hurricane  had  struck  the  town — a 
chaos  of  wind  and  rain,  falling  houses,  rending 
trees. 

No  fighting  could  go  on. 

Another  flash,  and  a  great  waterspout,  child 
of  the  hurricane,  could  be  seen  whirling  up  the 
river;  another,  and  the  waterspout  had  struck 
the  ship,  beat  her  down,  crushed  her! 

Anthony's  ears  never  forgot  the  shrieks  of  the 
drowning  wretches  flung  from  the  ship  into  the 
water,  nor  the  roar  of  the  storm  as,  breaking 

through  the  forest  in  front  of  her,  it  tore  its  way 

148 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

across  country.  After  a  few  dreadful  moments  a 
bright  moon  seemed  to  jump  into  the  sky.  All 
was  clear  and  quiet  again.  The  tropical  storm 
had  come  and  gone  in  the  space  of  a  few  minutes. 
Both  whites  and  blacks,  turned  from  their  pur- 
pose by  the  appalling  accident,  rushed  to  the 
salvage  of  the  human  wreckage.  Many  from  the 
ship  were  hauled  ashore;  some  were  washed 
away.  All  were  in  distress.  The  square  of  the 
slave-mart  was  turned  for  the  second  time  within 
the  week  into  an  outdoor  hospital. 

When  the  excited  blacks  had  rushed  from  their 
attack  to  the  rescue  of  the  slaves  caught  in  the 
rigging  of  the  broken  ship,  the  voodoo  tried  in 
vain  to  rally  them  to  fighting-pitch.  They  were 
bent  on  getting  out  the  drowning  men,  their 
brothers. 

Then  he  secretly  called  aside  his  most  devoted 
band  of  zealots.  Pointing  out  the  Chouacha 
and  reminding  them  that  the  Indian  had  been 
the  one  they  saw  running  through  the  lightning 
flash  to  set  the  town  to  arms,  he  swore  them  to 
eternal  vengeance  against  all  Indians  and  sent 
them  scurrying  back  through  the  forest  to  the 
Chouachas'  village. 

Here  the  voodoo  doctor's  afrites  caught  the 
peaceful  natives  by  surprise,  butchered  many  of 
them,  set  their  town  on  fire,  and,  returning  in 
violent  haste  to  New  Orleans,  tried  for  the 
second  time  to  draw  the  negroes  into  battle. 
11  149 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

But  it  was  too  late.  Some  were  in  manacles, 
some  in  jail,  and  some  meekly  caring  for  the 
victims  of  the  slave  ship. 

This  attack  on  the  Indian  village  made  all 
Indians  the  enemies  of  the  negroes  for  many 
generations;  and  since  this  hatred  forbade  the 
two  races  from  uniting  against  the  French,  the 
voodoo's  worst  deed  was  the  one  which  best 
protected  the  town  from  the  possibility  of  other 
mutinies,  for,  whatever  the  negroes  planned  in 
revolt,  the  revengeful  Indians  defeated  it.  Any- 
thing the  Indians  proposed  to  do  unlawfully 
the  blacks  told  to  the  authorities  for  spite. 

The  voodoo's  power  was  at  an  end. 

He  guessed  that  his  intimates  would  be 
hanged  (they  promptly  were)  and  that  he  him- 
self would  be  subjected  to  some  of  the  dreadful 
torturing  punishments  of  that  age.  He  preferred 
a  dramatic  taking-off.  So  in  the  cold  gray 
dawn  in  the  sight  of  the  still  waking  populace, 
red,  black,  white,  he  ran  out  upon  the  rail  of  the 
slowly  settling  ship,  sang  his  wailing  conjurer's 
song,  and,  plunging  Anthony's  knife  to  its  hilt 
in  his  heart,  fell  headlong  into  the  Great  River. 
Before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  town  his  body  spun 
round  and  round  as  it  sank. 

Even  to-day,  when  the  dawn  is  cold  after  a 
storm  in  the  full  of  the  moon,  there  are  times 
when  some  watchers  think  they  see  the  ghost 
of  the  voodoo  whirling  in  the  eddy  at  that  same 

150 


THE  SLAVE  SHIP 

place,  a  wicked  ghost  that  has  been  hoodooed 
and  can  never  get  away  from  the  scene  of  his 
crime  nor  rest  in  peace  because  the  bad  he  tried 
to  do  to  the  three  races  of  the  Mississippi  was 
turned  by  the  fate  of  the  slave  ship  into  lasting 
good  for  them  all. 


X 

PRETTY   PRINCESS 

Maids  of  the  Natchez  Send  Tomahawks  to  Surprise  Fort  Rosalie — 
Fashions  in  Scalps 

SAILORS  clinging  to  the  rigging  with  toes 
and  fingers  sang  an  echoing  chantey  as  one 
by  one  they  furled  the  canvas  wings  of  the 
frigate  coming  through  Lake  Pontchartrain  to 
anchor  before  New  Orleans. 

The  frigate,  a  splendid  ship  of  fifty  guns,  had 
belonged  to  one  of  the  Le  Moyne  brothers,  de 
Iberville;  another,  de  Chateauguay,  was  her 
captain;  and  a  third,  de  Bienville,  was  the 
governor  of  these  colonies  she  had  come  from 
France  to  supply.  There  was  a  large  family  of 
the  patriotic  Canadian  Le  Moynes  in  active 
service  throughout  the  New  World.  Like  all 
the  lesser  French  nobles,  each  was  called  by  the 
title  of  the  estate  he  owned  instead  of  his  parent's 
name. 

News  that  the  ship  had  been  sighted  spread 
so  quickly  that  by  the  time  she  had  arrived  not 

152 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

only  the  people  of  the  town,  but  all  the  blacks 
from  the  outlying  plantations  and  many  red 
natives  of  forest  camps,  were  on  the  dock  to 
meet  her. 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville  kept  a  thousand  de- 
tails in  his  mind.  "Run,  Tony,"  he  commanded 
the  Picard  du  Gay,  "and  offer  your  services  as 
interpreter  to  the  Natchez  chief  of  the  White- 
Apple  region.  Be  sure  that  some  of  the  uni- 
formed officers  do  him  homage;  see  that  the 
daughter  and  her  attendant  maids  receive  a 
present.  Watch  you,  too,  and  give  the  blacks 
the  signal  to  bob  and  duck  at  the  proper  places." 

At  the  same  moment  the  White-Apple  chief 
was  saying  to  the  Apple-Blossom  at  his  side: 
"Allow  our  white  brothers  to  make  friends. 
Much  is  to  be  gained  from  a  boat  like  this." 

The  coming  of  an  overseas  ship  is  a  time  of 
tense  feeling  in  any  port  at  any  a'ge  of  the 
world.  Fortunes  stay  or  go,  hearts  rejoice  or 
break,  with  the  destiny  of  an  argosy.  The  New 
Orleans  people  and  the  immigrants  alike  laughed 
and  cried  with  the  pleasure  and  excitement  of 
meeting.  Whether  they  were  kinsfolk  or 
strangers,  they  chattered  together. 

Many  of  these  new  settlers  were  farmers  and 
artisans.  They  brought  implements  for  tilling 
the  land  and  special  tools  for  mechanical  trades. 
The  Mississippi  French  had  learned  that  if  their 
towns  were  to  grow,  somebody  had  to  go  to  work. 

153 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

A  whole  regiment  of  troops  had  come  to 
supply  the  garrisons.  Quantities  of  munitions 
and  stores  to  maintain  them  were  in  the  hold. 
Several  priests  and  nuns  were  among  the 
passengers.  All  were  welcomed  by  cheer  after 
cheer. 

On  deck  and  on  shore  interest  centered  in  an 
item  of  the  cargo,  a  bevy  of  girls,  shipped  from 
the  mother  country  by  the  king  as  a  gift  to  the 
colony.  Chaperoned  by  nuns,  they  came  to  the 
dock  half-shyly,  half-boldly. 

Anthony  Auguelle,  stationed  with  the  Indians, 
was  embarrassed.  He  twisted  his  best  cap 
round  and  round  and  dangled  its  plume.  Four 
girls  were  looking  at  him  and  he  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  The  every-day  smile  which  he  used 
for  officers,  priests,  red  men,  and  negroes  with 
such  good  effect  faded  away.  He  was  grave  and 
awkward.  The  girls  passed  him  with  indifferent 
tosses  of  their  dainty  heads. 

His  Majesty  had  sent  them  to  persuade  the 
too  lively  young  bachelors  of  the  colony  to 
settle  down  in  sedate  home  life.  They  were 
penniless  orphans  of  Paris.  Nothing  could  be 
lost  by  venturing  into  another  country;  fortune 
and  happiness  might  be  gained  thereby.  Ro- 
mance and  adventure  called  to  them  as  it  had 
to  their  brothers,  and  they  had  answered 
blithely. 

With  no  dowry  except  the  tiny  hand-trunks  of 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

personal  needs  with  which  the  crown  had 
furnished  them,  they  would  have  gone  un- 
claimed in  the  matrimonial  markets  of  the 
capital.  On  the  brink  of  the  Great  River  their 
ruffles  and  ribbons,  coquettish  headgear  of  lace, 
small,  neat  shoes,  their  whole  feminine  charm, 
sent  the  pulses  of  backwoodsmen  to  fluttering. 
Straightway  each  maid  had  her  choice  of  a 
dozen  suitors. 

French  overlords,  even  on  the  remotest  bor- 
ders, kept  up  the  dignity  of  the  Empire  by 
holding  court  in  as  formal  an  imitation  of  the 
royal  audience  at  Versailles  as  they  could. 

The  hall  at  New  Orleans,  built  of  bark- 
covered  logs,  was  large  and  high.  A  mammoth 
fireplace  at  one  end  and  a  canopied  dais  with  a 
throne-like  chair  gave  it  an  air  of  state.  In  its 
impressive  atmosphere  the  Sieur  de  Bienville 
received  all  the  colonists  as  graciously  as  any 
king  could  have  done. 

Immigrants  from  the  poverty-stricken  lower 
middle  class  of  workaday  France  were  enchanted 
with  the  semi-tropical  luxuriance  of  this  new 
land  of  parti-colored  races.  The  elegance  of  the 
reception-chamber  appealed  to  their  love  of 
change.  Where  else  in  the  wide  world  could 
common  people  be  associated  so  cordially  with 
uniformed  soldiers  and  their  gorgeous  officers, 
be  waited  upon  by  fantastic  blackamoors,  be 
introduced  to  a  dusky  princess  more  beautiful 

155 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

than  any  one  they  had  ever  seen?  She  spoke  to 
them  in  the  French  phrases  Anthony  had 
taught  her.  Her  maids  danced  with  the  officers 
the  steps  that  his  fiddle  had  measured  for  them 
in  his  visits  to  the  White- Apple  plantation. 

The  governor  patronized  all  the  marriage 
ceremonies  which  the  priests  performed  for  the 
king's  maids.  He  presided  over  the  f£te  which 
followed. 

The  first  days  of  the  new  colonists  were  happy 
ones.  A  fraternal  policy  demanded  that  they 
be  made  to  feel  at  ease  and  that  the  intelligent, 
semi-barbarous  Natchez  be  assured  of  the  new- 
comers' kindness. 

Anthony  sulked.  "I  did  not  want  one  of  the 
maids,"  he  explained,  pettishly,  "but  I  hate  to 
be  sniffed  at." 

"Neither  was  I  chosen,"  replied  the  tactful 
Sieur  de  Bienville.  "Let  us  console  each  other 
by  thinking  how  the  hands  of  women  will  im- 
prove our  town  of  clumsy  men.  Then  will  be 
scrubbing  and  good  cooking  and  clean  curtains 
and  flower-gardens — " 

Anthony  interrupted:  "And  no  dogs  and  no 
cock-fights  and  no  fun  of  any  sort !  I  am  going 
back  to  the  wilderness!" 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville's  laughing  face  went 
grave.  "You  are  needed  in  the  Natchez  forest, 
Tony.  So  much  is  at  stake  that  I  shall  go  with 
you.  The  friendliness  which  you  have  begun 

156 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

with  the  restless  White-Apple  must  continue 
until  we  are  sure  of  the  tribe's  allegiance.  We 
will  go  with  the  returning  Indians  to  their 
village.  It  does  not  matter  if  we  French  quarrel 
among  ourselves;  we  can  forget  and  make  up 
again.  But  when  our  traders  offend  the  Indians, 
as  has  lately  been  done,  the  natives  remember 
and  resent  it,  planning  secret  revenge." 

"The  Natchez  welcome  a  dog  as  they  do  his 
master;  game-chickens  abound,"  cried  Anthony. 
"Let  us  go!"  and  away  they  both  paddled  with 
the  chief. 

It  seemed  more  like  play  than  politics  to  be 
rowing  up-stream  in  the  Natchez  delegation 
through  country  where  so  many  notable  events 
were  to  happen.  They  specially  observed  a  bluff 
something  over  a  hundred  miles  above  New 
Orleans  where  great  red  cypresses  stood.  Each 
was  like  a  painted  post,  or  a  baton  rouge,  as  they 
pronounced  it.  They  planned  to  build  a  fortress 
there,  little  dreaming  that  a  capital  city  by  the 
name  they  gave  would  one  day  nourish  on  the 
spot.  From  Baton  Rouge  for  many  miles  north 
the  banks  they  passed  were  within  the  century 
to  become  the  refuge  of  the  three  thousand 
French  Acadians  driven  out  of  Nova  Scotia 
into  such  pathetic  exile  that  the  story  of  their 
"  Evangeline, "  as  told  by  the  poet  Longfellow, 
will  never  be  forgotten  as  long  as  this  bit  of 
"Acadian  coast"  retains  its  name. 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

While  Anthony  played  his  fiddle  to  cement  the 
peace  between  the  White-Apple  people  and  the 
French,  the  Sieur  de  Bienville  as  a  military  pre- 
caution put  into  perfect  working  order  a  tiny 
near-by  outpost  of  three  stockaded  log  cabins 
which  he  had  built  some  years  before.  His 
brother  Iberville  had  chosen  the  site.  It  was 
the  first  permanent  settlement  on  the  Missis- 
sippi and  was  called  Fort  Rosalie.  On  its 
foundation  was  afterward  laid  the  American 
city  of  Natchez. 

Since  the  Great  River  came  out  of  the  void 
and  wet  the  feet  of  the  first  dinosaur  there*  has 
never  been  a  dull  minute  upon  it.  Anthony's 
gray  eyes  were  always  hunting  for  unusual 
sights. 

"What  is  that?"  he  whispered  to  the  Sieur  de 
Bienville  on  the  homeward  way  as  some  heavy 
creature  like  a  huge  water-rat  stirred  among  the 
roots  of  a  tree  hidden  under  the  bank. 

"Paddle  nearer,  Tony.  Faster!  It  may  be  a 
wounded  man." 

It  was  a  coureur  de  bois,  not  hurt  in  body,  but 
so  frightened  that  his  state  was  pitiful. 

"The  Natchez  murdered  my  two  companions 
days  and  days  ago,"  he  screamed,  in  hysterical 
relief,  when  he  found  that  he  was  rescued  from 
his  slimy  cave  by  men  of  his  own  nation.  ' '  What 
will  the  post  do  about  such  an  outrage?"  he  de- 
manded, wildly.  "Are  traders  to  be  sacrificed 

158 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

without  revenge?"  He  pounded  distracted 
hands  upon  his  chest. 

As  he  fed  the  poor  thing,  who  had  been  living 
upon  raw  fish  and  roots  for  a.  long  time,  the 
officer  asked,  "What  did  your  companions  do 
first  to  the  Natchez?" 

"We  walked  around  in  their  funny  church  a 
little;  that's  all,"  faltered  the  coureur  de  bois. 
"The  White- Apple's  daughter  saw  us  and  threw 
a  tomahawk  at  us.  She  hit  first  one  and  then 
another."  He  turned  very  pale  as  he  recalled 
the  sight.  "I  escaped  by  falling  in  the  river." 

"Not  the  pretty  Apple-Blossom?"  gasped 
Anthony.  "Not  our  gentle  pupil  in  French  and 
music  who  came  to  the  wedding?" 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville  inclined  his  head. 
"She  has  charge  of  the  maids  who  help  tend  the 
temple's  sacred  fire  which  came  from  the  sun 
and  which  never  goes  out.  These  men  profaned 
a  sanctuary." 

"She  should  have  tomahawked  you,  too!" 
cried  Anthony  to  the  coureur  de  bois.  "You 
foolish  fellows  came  near  being  the  death  of  us 
all.  We  have  spent  a  week  soothing  the  Natchez. 
We  could  not  find  out  why  they  were  angry." 

"They  will  never  forgive  nor  forget.  It  is 
only  one  of  the  many  indignities  done  them  by 
your  careless  acts.  If  you  promise  never  to 
mention  the  murder  or  to  stir  up  trouble  about 
it  I'll  carry  you  with  us,"  said  the  stern  young 

159 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

officer.     "Otherwise    back    you    go    into    the 


river." 


The  coureur  de  bois  agreed  to  silence.  They 
took  him  to  New  Orleans,  an  abject  prisoner. 

Yet  many  days  later,  when  there  came 
messengers,  one  tumbling  over  the  other  in  their 
frantic  haste  to  tell  of  a  massacre  of  settlers  at 
several  small  posts,  he  began  to  babble  his 
story,  and  the  cry  went  round:  "The  Natchez! 
The  Natchez  did  it.  We  must  subdue  the 
Natchez!" 

The  young  wives  from  France  were  panic- 
stricken  at  this  frightful  menace  of  armed 
savages.  Husbands  who  for  themselves  would 
not  have  minded  a  few  Indians  on  the  war-path 
were  now  excited  by  the  uncontrollable  terror 
of  the  women.  They  demanded  of  Bienville  the 
extinction  of  the  Natchez.  A  mob  spirit  grew. 

"Do  you  see  the  gray  moss  hanging  from  the 
live-oaks?"  these  citizens  cried.  "The  Spanish 
and  the  Indians  call  its  clusters  'French  wigs.' 
If  we  do  not  kill  these  Natchez,  then  shall  our 
hair  dangle  in  like  festoons  from  every  branch." 

" Give  us  action !"  howled  the  soldiers.  "We 
came  to  protect  the  colony.  Now  is  the  time  to 
strike!" 

The  distressed  governor  sighed  heavily.  He 
could  not  afford  mutiny  of  his  troops  nor  the 
desertion  of  his  citizens.  Neither  could  he  trust 

the  Natchez,  who  no  longer  trusted  him. 

1 60 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

"It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  he  told 
Anthony,  sadly.  "The  condition  of  peace  be- 
tween two  nations  for  which  our  priests  hoped 
is  too  ideal.  None  of  us  on  either  side  are  self- 
controlled  enough  to  maintain  it." 

He  hastily  filled  his  bateaux  with  several 
hundred  men,  hurried  under  sail  and  oar  up  the 
Mississippi  to  Fort  Rosalie,  marched  out  from 
there,  took  the  Natchez  by  surprise,  and  fell 
upon  them  with  gun  and  bayonet. 

Now  Anthony  loved  a  fight.  For  his  vivacious 
nature  it  was  the  best  way  to  clear  the  air. 
Pummeling  some  rude  fellow  who  needed  it  was 
a  satisfaction.  But  this  battle  was  not  a  fight. 
It  was  war;  cruel,  bloody  war.  His  whole  soul 
sickened  at  cutting  down  these  Indians  whose 
artistic,  half-civilized  towns  had  so  often  been 
his  shelter.  He  had  a  childish  fancy  that  if  he 
had  been  given  time  to  go  about  among  them 
with  the  fiddle  they  loved,  he  could  have  brought 
peace  again. 

It  was  too  late.  They  were  beaten  by  the 
sword.  Conquered  and  subdued,  the  Natchez 
agreed  to  whatever  the  French  dictated.  Fort 
Rosalie  became  the  headquarters  of  the  Sieur 
de  Bienville.  Under  his  direction  the  sullen 
Indians  labored  at  enlarging  the  fort  which  had 
taken  their  freedom  from  them.  Many  of  the 
king's  maids  and  their  husbands  came  to  its 
shelter  to  found  homes. 

161 


Then  the  Sieur  de  Bienville  was  called  to 
France  and  Anthony  wandered  disconsolate 
from  the  fort,  now  under  a  commander  as 
heartless  as  Bienville  had  been  kind. 

Although  the  plantations  were  destroyed,  the 
Natchez  temple  to  the  sun,  their  deity,  stood 
inviolate.  The  village  looked  the  same  as  ever. 
Anthony  often  went  there  unafraid.  Some  of  his 
old  welcome  still  remained  when  they  accepted 
his  gifts.  For  in  Indian-land  one  speaks  by  a 
present.  If  he  gives  nothing  it  is  the  same  as 
though  he  were  silent. 

"Make  me  a  pipe,"  the  pretty  princess  coaxed 
him  one  day,  "a  flute  of  several  reeds."  She  se- 
lected some  from  a  handful  she  held.  She  counted 
the  others  carefully  and  tied  them  in  bundles,  the 
same  number  in  each.  "Play  me  a  tune  upon  it ; 
not  a  sad  song  because  the  new  governor  de- 
mands that  we  give  up  our  town  to  him,  but  a 
joyous  air  which  tells  that  the  sun  still  shines." 

Anthony  made  the  pipe  and  taught  her  maids 
a  triumphant  tune.  The  princess  gave  him  a 
bundle  of  reeds.  "Destroy  a  reed  each  day. 
When  there  is  only  one  left  come  again  and  we 
will  give  you  a  present  of  tender  chickens  and 
fresh  eggs — all  that  our  chiefs  can  carry,  to  take 
to  the  fort.  The  delicacies  will  speak  for  us  and 
show  our  feeling  of  submission  to  the  con- 
querors." Her  smile  was  not  a  pleasant  thing 
to  see;  it  worried  him. 

16? 


PRETTY   PRINCESS 

With  an  anxious  mind  the  Picard  du  Gay  took 
his  bundle  of  reeds.  He  made  the  rounds  of  the 
small  settlements  dependent  on  Fort  Rosalie 
and  warned  them  that  the  Natchez  meant 
mischief.  He  pleaded  with  the  officers  of  the 
fort  to  reinforce  themselves.  He  could  not 
explain  what  the  reeds  meant  nor  tell  the 
settlers  what  to  fear  from  the  Indians  whose 
arms  had  been  confiscated. 

The  Sieur  de  Bienville,  in  France,  was  plead- 
ing with  the  court  for  more  men  for  colonial 
defense.  The  local  governor  sent  requests,  by 
every  ship,  for  arms — more  arms.  Coureurs  de 
bois  predicted  uprisings.  Who  listens  to  any 
Cassandra? 

On  the  day  that  he  drew  the  last  reed  Anthony 
went  early  to  see  the  princess.  The  maidens, 
gentle  and  domestic,  were  loading  the  braves 
with  dressed  fowls  and  baskets  of  eggs.  A  more 
peaceable-looking  procession  never  took  the  trail 
to  any  fort. 

"Stay  you  here  before  our  temple  with  me," 
commanded  the  princess,  whose  vivid  pose  and 
brilliant  eyes  suggested  a  crisis  of  some  sort. 
"A  white  man  shall  witness  our  submission  and 
play  our  song  upon  his  pipes." 

He  felt  helpless,  worn,  and  old,  a  victim  in  her 
power. 

She  abandoned  French  and  took  up  Natchez 
words.  "The  war  between  us  has  only  begun. 

163 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

No  one  but  the  sun  above  can  see  how  it  will 
end." 

Confused  by  her  distraught  manner,  Anthony 
looked  helplessly  at  the  one  reed  in  his  hand. 

"Every  Natchez  tribe  had  such  a  bundle," 
she  went  on.  "This  morning,  when  there  was 
one  reed  left,  each  warrior  ran  to  the  nearest 
white  man's  post  around  Fort  Rosalie  with  his 
newly  made  stone  tomahawk  hidden  under  a 
present.  Every  Frenchman  is  massacred.  Every 
lodge-pole  is  hung  with  scalps — your  hair,  not 
ours.  So  do  the  fashions  change." 

Anthony  could  not  believe  her.  She  pointed 
in  the  direction  of  Fort  Rosalie.  Smoke,  heavy 
and  ominous,  was  rising  above  the  trees.  The 
stockade,  the  settlers'  houses,  were  on  fire!  To 
be  able  to  kindle  the  buildings  the  Indians  must 
have  destroyed  first  the  defenders  and  then  have 
dragged  out  the  women  and  children. 

With  one  blow  they  had  killed  or  captured 
five  hundred  French  and  avenged  themselves 
upon  the  white  race. 

The  many  battles  of  the  Natchez  war  which 
followed  ended,  after  several  years,  in  the  de- 
struction of  that  tribe.  But  Anthony,  almost 
the  sole  survivor  of  Fort  Rosalie,  felt  that  the 
French  had  lost,  in  breaking  with  the  semi- 
barbarous  and  skilled  Natchez,  more  than  any 
ultimate  victory  could  have  given  them. 

The  princess  took  the  pipe  from  his  nerveless 
164 


PRETTY  PRINCESS 

fingers  and  played  some  wild  pagan  strain.  All 
aglow  with  triumph,  she  put  her  hands  beneath 
the  hereditary  fire  on  the  altar,  gathered  it  up  as 
though  it  had  been  a  flower,  drove  her  vestals 
before  her,  and  went  down  a  forest  path  out  of 
sight  forever,  clasping  to  her  breast  the  undying 
flame. 
12 


XI 


STAGS   OF  TWELVE 

One  Victory  for  Chartres  in  the  Financial  Struggles  of  Pierre  Duque  de 
Boisbriant — When  Bubbles  Burst 

WHO  planned  the  first  Wild  West  show? 
Could  it  have  been  an  American  cow- 
boy? No.  It  was  a  Frenchman.  His  name 
was  Pierre  Duque;  his  title,  the  Sieur  de  Bois- 
briant, Knight  of  the  Military  Order  of  St. 
Louis. 

As  king's  lieutenant  he  was  trying  to  regulate 
the  tangled  affairs  of  the  Illinois  region  during 
an  official  visit  to  Fort  Chartres  on  the  Great 
River. 

Louisiana  to  its  remotest  borders  had  gone  to 
speculating  on  a  form  of  paper  credit  which  John 
Law,  the  financial  dictator  of  France,  had 
started  in  the  promise  of  making  himself  and 
everybody  else  immensely  rich  without  having 
to  give  value  received  at  any  place.  His  scheme 
was  a  bright  Mississippi  bubble.  It  burst  at  the 
prick  of  the  collectors  who  demanded  real 
money.  All  the  towns  were  left  in  debt. 

1 66 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

When  he  first  thought  of  giving  the  show  to 
pay  the  Illinois  colony's  bills,  the  Sieur  de 
Boisbriant's  whole  face  lighted  up  with  fun. 
As  he  caught  Anthony  Auguelle's  glance  upon 
him  he  tried  to  look  grave.  He  felt  like  a  small 
boy  in  mischief  and  grew  rather  sheepish. 

Anthony's  dancing  eyes  arched  their  brows 
quizzically  and  he  clucked  a  reproving  sound 
between  his  teeth.  "What  do  you  mean,  dear 
Sieur,"  he  demanded,  with  an  appearance  of 
severity,  "by  enjoying  yourself  at  a  crisis  so 
serious  that  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  New 
Orleans  to  help  you?" 

"I  have  thought  of  a  way  out  of  our  troubles 
that  is  gay  enough  to  suit  even  you."  And  the 
lieutenant  gave  up  to  laughter  as  though  he 
were  more  than  pleased  with  himself.  "Since 
the  settlements  at  Kaskaskia  and  on  the  Amer- 
ican Bottom  are  growing  and  a  little  post 
starting  among  the  Missouri  across  the  Missis- 
sippi, we  are  strongly  established  here  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Illinois.  Our  Indians  receive  such 
good  care  that  they  are  like  spoiled  children 
arrogantly  demanding  their  own  way  in  every- 
thing. If  we  try  to  make  them  work  to  help  pay 
the  debts  of  the  fort  they  refuse  our  demands. 
They  even  threaten  to  join  the  Chickasaws 
against  us." 

Anthony  frowned.  "We  never  have  enough 
men  at  any  fort  to  defend  it  properly.  We  can't 

167 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

keep  our  own  self-respect  when  we  make  such  a 
poor  showing  before  our  dependents.  How  are 
we  to  raise  crops  for  export  when  we  haven't 
soldiers  to  enforce  the  orders  of  the  overseers 
who  command  the  Indians  to  plant  our  com- 
mons?" 

"If  the  Indians  could  be  made  to  understand 
how  powerful  France  is;  if  France  could  see  how 
remarkable  the  Indians  can  be;  if  both  could  be 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  explorers 
who  go  between  them — then  might  we  all  assist 
one  another  to  better  purpose,"  began  the  Sieur 
de  Boisbriant. 

Anthony  interrupted:  "France  herself  is  like 
one  who  has  lost  all  in  a  lottery.  The  bubble  has 
left  her  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  If  we  ask 
for  more  men  or  more  money  she  lays  aside  our 
petitions  and  forgets  them." 

"Some  special  messenger  of  interesting  per- 
sonality might  receive  immediate  attention  even 
in  the  dilatory  court,"  smiled  the  lieutenant. 
"I  am  thinking  of  sending  a  dancing-bear — " 

"What!" 

"And  a  panther  cub  in  leash — " 

"What!" 

"And  a  stag  of  twelve — " 

"What!" 

"And  a  dozen  of  our  handsomest  young  braves 
in  war-paint  and  bonnets;  the  oldest  and  wrin- 

kledest  and  wickedest  medicine-man  we  can  find 

1 68 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

with  full  regalia;  the  littlest,  reddest,  fattest  pa- 
pooses; squaws  decked  in  bead-embroidered, 
fringed  doeskin;  and  particularly  one  or  two  of 
those  beautiful  shell-bejeweled  young  girls,  the 
maidens  of  the  Illinois." 

Anthony  was  speechless. 

The  Sieur  de  Boisbriant  began  again:  "We 
must  give  up  our  dreams  of  such  gold  as  the 
Spaniards  found.  Our  wealth  is  in  agriculture. 
It  takes  a  longer  time  to  develop  fields  than  it 
does  to  pick  up  gold,  but  the  riches  are  quite  as 
sure.  That  nation  is  stable  whose  people  live 
on  the  soil." 

Anthony  had  no  farming  blood  in  him.  He 
could  not  give  up  all  dreams  of  a  French  Eldo- 
rado. "We  found  some  lead  in  the  Missouri 
country — " 

"Also  delicious  wild  apples  of  quite  as  much 
value  as  the  lead,"  interrupted  the  lieutenant, 
in  his  turn  bent  on  proving  his  point. 

How  little  either  one  of  them  guessed  that 
Missouri  was  finally  to  produce  as  its  best  known 
asset  a  crop  of  fun,  through  its  humorist  Mark 
Twain,  which  would  supply  not  only  the 
Mississippi  country,  but  the  whole  laughter- 
hungry  world. 

Anthony  rubbed  his  chin  and  thought  about 
it.  "It  is  true  that  our  settlers  in  their  log 
houses  so  neatly  whitewashed  and  thatched,  so 
pretty  with  the  roses  and  grape-vines  on  the 

169 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

galleries  and  the  violets  growing  side  by  side 
with  beans  in  the  garden,  are  more  contented 
and  industrious  tilling  the  outlying  fields  of  the 
commandant's  common  than  are  the  gold- 
hunters  who  never  get  anything  but  yellow  fever 
as  they  go  prospecting.  To  enable  this  state  of 
affairs  to  continue  I  must  now  catch  a  bear  to 
hold  a  beggar's  cup  under  the  king's  nose  and 
collect  a  bit  of  needed  money — is  that  your 
request?" 

"It  is." 

It  seems  incredible,  but  they  did  it.  Braves 
were  selected  for  their  prowess,  squaws  for  their 
accomplishments,  and  maids  for  their  beauty. 
Sergeant  Du  Bois  of  the  fort  was  their  chief 
assistant.  He  admired  the  lithe  slenderness, 
the  rich,  heavy  hair,  and  the  delicate  features  of 
the  Indian  girls.  He  suggested: 

"  My  lord  lieutenant,  let  the  chieftain's  daugh- 
ter, who  is  called  a  princess,  be  invited  to  head 
the  embassy  and  give  social  tone  to  the  ex- 
pedition." 

Oh,  diplomatic  young  man!  Oh,  ardent  lover! 
For  this  strange  affair  with  the  princess  his  name 
is  written  in  history.  His  heroic  deeds  as  a 
soldier  have  faded  beside  its  romance. 

Rude  bears,  reversing  the  plan  of  things, 
several  times  captured  Anthony  before  he  found 
the  teachable  cub  he  wanted.  A  mother  panther 
tore  off  his  clothes  and  some  of  his  curls  as  he 

170 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

secured  her  too-playful  kitten.  The  stag,  a 
noble  specimen,  wild  and  full  of  fear,  gave  him 
more  trouble  than  all  the  others,  hobbled, 
muzzled,  and  harnessed  though  he  was. 

Down  the  river  went  the  whole  concourse 
to  New  Orleans.  That  hilarious  town  greeted 
their  theatrical  appearance  with  continuous  ap- 
plause. 

To  the  travelers  it  was  a  holiday;  to  the 
manager  of  the  menagerie  a  time  of  anxiety. 
Anthony's  worst  fears  about  the  animals  were 
realized.  In  crossing  to  the  sailing-vessel  the 
deer,  released  from  the  prison  of  a  shed  in  the 
town,  saw  again  the  sunlight  and  smelled  the 
flowing  water.  Voices  from  the  forest  called 
him.  He  burst  the  confining  thongs,  struck 
down  his  keepers.  Plunging  into  the  Great 
River,  he  swam  to  freedom. 

The  expedition  was  forced  to  sail  without  a 
buck. 

A  cat  may  look  at  a  king.  And  so  may  a 
kitten — a  panther's  kitten.  But  not  with  half 
the  astonishment  which  the  king  showed  in 
looking  at  the  kitten — such  a  curious  kitten. 
His  Majesty's  eyes  were  round  and  full  of  de- 
light as  he  gazed  on  the  kitten's  companions, 
that  whole  Wild  West  show  of  the  Sieur  de 
Boisbriant's  devising. 

''Our  cousin  of  England  has  had  a  Poca- 
hontas,"  quoth  Louis  XV;  "for  ourself,  we 

171 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

prefer  a  variety  in  savages.  It  is  our  pleasure 
to  receive  the  Illinois." 

Right  royally  he  provided  for  them,  while 
they  did  their  utmost  to  secure  his  favor.  The 
braves,  quite  as  much  awed  by  the  wonders  of 
Paris  as  the  Sieur  de  Boisbriant  had  expected 
they  would  be,  danced  their  war-dances,  sang 
their  calumet  songs,  and  presented  him  with  a 
peace-pipe.  They  were  given  the  stage  in  the 
Grand  Opera.  Squaws  and  braves  in  chorus 
made  music  of  haunting,  fantastic  airs,  ac- 
companied by  primitive  instruments  of  a  kind 
never  before  heard  within  those  walls.  The 
Indian  flute  of  five  exquisite  notes  imitating  the 
songs  of  those  native  birds  which  the  Louisiana 
ornithologist,  Audubpn,  afterward  loved  so  well, 
was  the  delight  of  the  Parisian  orchestra. 

Ladies  of  the  court  were  captivated  with  the 
barbaric  handiwork  of  the  squaws.  Duchesses 
and  maids  of  honor  vied  with  one  another  in 
showing  attention  to  the  princess  whom  Du 
Bois  was  thoughtful  enough  to  bring.  These 
beauties  of  a  new  type  were  like  live  dolls  to  the 
French  court.  The  latest  Parisian  creations  in 
costumes  were  given  them.  Their  hanging 
braids  were  elaborated  to  coiffures.  High- 
heeled,  narrow -toed  satin  slippers  replaced 
their  flat  moccasins,  and  stiff  bodices  of  the 
tightest  girded  their  supple  waists.  If  they 

were  uncomfortable  in  these  civilized  costumes 

172 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

they  did  not  say  so,  for  they  looked  most 
charming. 

Nobody  liked  the  panther  cub.  Even  the 
ladies  would  have  preferred  him  in  the  shape  of  a 
muff.  But  the  bear  who  danced  to  a  gourd 
rattle  and  growled  in  Choctaw  was  the  delight 
of  all  the  children.  It  is  painful  to  observe  how 
short  is  the  distance  between  ultra-refinement 
and  savagery.  Those  French  boys  of  noble 
birth  forgot  the  obligations  of  their  titles  and 
acted  exactly  like  a  pack  of  young  Indians. 

They  baited  that  bear! 

And  the  bear  broke  his  leash!  The  small 
dukes  and  marquises  took  to  their  heels.  The 
bear  took  to  his.  He  had  twice  as  many  legs 
as  any  one  aristocrat  and  he  made  better  time. 
He  pounced  upon  a  small  chap.  Howls  as  long 
as  the  list  of  his  estates  came  from  the  child 
between  hugs. 

An  Indian  brave  jumped  to  the  rescue, 
snatched  the  victim,  and  ran  for  shelter  across 
the  park.  The  bear  followed.  A  dozen  Indians 
took  up  a  pursuit  of  the  bear.  An  excited  court 
looked  from  the  upper  windows  of  the  palace  at 
Versailles  to  see  an  Indian  with  a  child  running 
toward  them  at  a  lively  pace,  while  close  behind 
him,  taking  the  smooth  lawns  under  the  clipped 
trees  as  though  they  had  been  his  own  Missouri 
hillside,  the  bear  also  made  good  speed. 

The  king  was  highly  diverted.  The  guards  at 

173 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

the  entrance  gave  way  to  the  runner/  They  did 
not  challenge  the  bear.  He  entered  without  a 
password.  If  the  Indian  had  been  accustomed 
to  doors  he  might  have  shut  one  after  him  and 
put  a  barricade  between  himself  and  his  pursuer. 
As  it  was,  he  went  in  at  one  side  of  the  palace  and 
came  out  at  the  other.  All  the  court  above- 
stairs,  as  in  a  gallery,  leaned  over  the  balustrades 
to  watch  the  race  and  then  ran  helter-skelter 
to  another  side  to  be  in  at  the  finish.  From  every 
direction  Indians  were  flying  at  the  bear.  The 
chase  ended  abruptly  when  they  all  piled  upon 
him  and  the  first  Indian  restored  the  boy  to  his 
mother. 

"I  would  not  have  believed  that  a  man  could 
outrun  a  bear/'  was  the  king's  comment.  "He 
was  going  rather  fast." 

"An  Indian  on  foot  can  follow  a  deer  and  bring 
it  in  as  quarry  at  the  end  of  the  day."  Anthony, 
occupying  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  position  of 
interpreter  and  entertainer,  spoke  with  the 
freedom  a  chief  jester  might  have  used.  "I 
would  we  might  have  brought  with  us  a  stag  of 
the  forest  to  show  you,  Sire,  how  these  red  men 
can  endure." 

The  king  turned  upon  him  that  look  of  genuine 
interest  which  all  suppliants  at  the  feet  of 
capricious  rulers  strive  so  eagerly  to  rouse. 

"It  is  not  possible  for  a  man  to  catch  a  deer!" 
exclaimed  the  king. 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

Anthony  answered  carefully,  "A  white  man 
cannot,  but  these  wild  men  are  of  different 
sinew  and  very  quick  in  movement." 

"In  the  forest  near  the  Bois  Bologne  there  is 
a  deer-park.  Call  the  gamekeeper!  Let  us  see 
what  we  have,"  and  his  Majesty  gave  his  whole 
attention  to  this  alluring  prospect  of  a  new  sport. 

The  Sieur  de  Boisbriant,  thinking  of  his 
colony,  had  tried  to  tell  of  the  oranges,  lemons, 
figs,  plums,  melons,  pecans,  sugar-cane,  rice, 
indigo,  yams,  and  tobacco  in  the  south;  of  the 
apples,  berries,  cherries,  corn,  wheat,  and  rye 
of  the  north.  Du  Bois  had  mentioned  the 
water-power  to  grind  all  grains  and  saw  the  hard 
wood  of  the  forests,  of  abundant  fuel  to  work 
any  metals  they  found.  Both  indicated  that 
they  needed  a  little  more  help  until  revenue 
began  to  come  in  from  these  sources.  The 
royal  ears  were  dull. 

But  they  were  sharp  enough  for  any  Missis- 
sippi product  that  could  move  as  fast  as  a  deer. 
"We  must  have  a  royal  stag  or  two,"  was  his 
animated  decision  as  he  consulted  them  in 
planning  the  races,  which  he  insisted  must 
begin  forthwith. 

How  far  are  the  prairies  and  forests  of  Illinois 
from  the  meadows  and  woods  of  the  Bois 
Bologne?  To  Anthony  they  were  just  around 
the  corner  of  any  little  grove.  His  heart  was  in 
the  out-of-doors,  never  in  the  court  of  kings. 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

He  had  been  longing  for  the  banks  of  his  Great 
River  with  a  consuming  homesickness.  As  the 
race  began  all  sadness  vanished  with  one  bound 
of  his  heart.  A  vista  of  this  French  park  showed 
the  king's  deer  in  flight.  He  was  a  noble  creature 
— a  buck  whose  horns  bore  the  rare  number  of 
twelve  prongs — a  stag  royal. 

On  his  trail  came  half  the  Indian  hunters. 
The  magnificent  leaps  of  the  deer  were  a  thing 
to  hold  the  watchers  breathless.  The  lissome 
movements  of  the  bronze  hunters  suggested  the 
old  red  gods  at  play. 

The  chase  was  a  contest  of  speed  and  en- 
durance. Yet  its  grace  and  beauty  were  so 
marked,  so  new,  so  surprising  and  utterly  ab- 
sorbing, that  all  the  spectators  were  silent  and 
attentive. 

Not  to  overtire  the  hunters  or  the  buck,  par- 
ticularly not  to  surfeit  the  king,  the  time  of  the 
chase  was  limited  and  at  the  appointed  hour 
the  hunters  were  recalled.  They  had  not  been 
able  to  overtake  the  "game." 

"We  have  another  stag,"  the  king  said,  with 
pride,  on  the  second  day.  "  Bring  other  runners. 
Who  catches  him  may  have  him." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  those  feats  of  daring 
which  set  Paris  agog  and  gave  the  court  the  most 
absorbing  entertainment  of  the  century. 

There  came  a  day — a  glorious  day — when 
wind  and  sun  and  exhilarating  air  stirred  the 

176 


STAGS  OF  TWELVE 

Indians  like  a  Mississippi  morning,  when  the 
buck  went  easily  over  brush-heaps  with  joyous 
leaps,  when  the  hunters  followed  with  winged 
heels.  The  quarry  left  them  all  behind.  The 
red  chieftain's  pace  never  faltered.  He  began 
to  gain.  He  went  faster  and  faster.  His  speed 
was  like  the  flight  of  birds. 

Then  came  the  moment  which  the  king  had 
thought  impossible. 

All  eyes  saw  the  Indian  run  beside  the  buck 
and  lay  a  victor's  hand  upon  a  flank.  Even  a 
hunter  mourns  the  death  of  a  noble  stag.  The 
court  had  grown  to  love  this  woodland  creature. 
As  the  Indian  flourished  his  knife  half  the  court 
screamed  with  disapproval.  He  turned  its  hilt. 
The  deer  ran  on.  The  savage  came  back  to  lay 
the  knife  at  the  feet  of  the  king.  To  spare  the 
royal  stag  was  an  act  of  courtesy  which  de- 
lighted the  French,  for  whose  benefit  Anthony 
had  carefully  planned  the  behavior  of  the  red 
man. 

Never  again  would  that  court  forget  the 
Mississippi  colonies  or  idly  wonder  what  sort 
of  people  Indians  were. 

In  the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  the  king, 
amid  great  pomp  and  splendor,  knighted  the 
Sergeant  Du  Bois.  He  was  given  a  title  and  the 
command  of  Fort  Chartres. 

A  knight  who  is  a  commandant  is  a  very 
eligible  husband  for  any  lady  of  quality.  The 

177 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

Sieur  Du  Bois — "  brave,  bold,  and  loyal" — was 
given  the  hand  of  his  princess  in  the  presence 
of  the  court. 

The  great  organ  of  the  cathedral  pealed,  the 
censers  swung,  the  choir  boys  chanted,  and  the 
priests  married  the  beautiful  girl  of  the  Illinois 
to  the  titled  young  commandant. 

The  Sieur  de  Boisbriant,  with  papers  of 
lengthened  credit  in  his  pocket,  with  a  gift  of 
more  troops  and  munitions  loading  at  Havre 
and  promises  of  endless  patronage  from  his 
sovereign,  stood  hand  in  hand  with  the  happy 
Picard  du  Gay  all  through  the  gorgeous  cere- 
mony, their  thoughts  on  the  towns  of  their 
Great  River  and  how  they  were  to  be  lifted  above 
debt  and  into  prosperity  as  a  result  of  the  races 
with  the  stags  of  twelve. 


XII 

BRIDGES  OF   BOATS 

A  Legend  of  a  Crossing  by  the  Forerunner  of  the  Engineer,  James  Eads — 
From  Cajeux  to  Caissons 

A  NTHONY  stared  at  the  needle  of  his  com- 
J~\  pass.  He  reversed  the  box  and  looked 
again.  " Of  course  the  needle  points  to  the  pole; 
it  can't  do  anything  else."  He  turned  his  face 
to  the  north.  "Now  my  right  hand  is  toward 
the  east  bank  of  the  river;  my  left  hand  is  toward 
the  west.  I  have  been  going  up  the  river  all 
day."  He  had  been  following  the  Mississippi 
and  he  wrinkled  his  nose  in  perplexity  as  he  made 
the  discovery.  "The  sun  is  setting  on  the  east 
bank  of  this  Great  River!" 

The  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more  he 
was  sure.  "The  channel  wanders  so  crookedly 
over  this  flat  plain  that  the  stream,  whose 
general  direction  is  south,  must  be  going  straight 
north  at  this  particular  turn  in  its  winding!" 
He  had  guessed  the  right  answer  to  the  Southern 
riddle,  "Can  you  name  a  spot  where  the  sun 
sets  in  the  east?" 

179 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

The  dislocated  sunset  had  a  lowering  aspect. 
Anthony  scanned  the  clouds  with  the  eye  of  a 
weather  prophet.  "It  looks  like  more  rain. 
A  wet  moon  is  overhanging  these  lands,  already 
quite  damp  enough." 

Two  Indians,  dripping  from  a  recent  shower, 
were  sloshing  along  in  the  mud  of  the  bank. 
They  signaled  him.  He  put  ashore  in  the  funny 
little  coracle  he  was  using.  A  coracle  is  a  fishing- 
tub  made  of  a  wooden  frame  covered  with  skin. 
It  is  as  safe  as  it  is  slow.  The  French  prefer  it  to 
the  canoe  for  angling. 

"Medicine-men  danced  all  night,"  began  the 
Indians.  "Our  old  Father  of  Waters,  the 
Meact-Chassippi,  is  angry  because  the  white 
man  has  tried  to  imprison  him  within  his  own 
banks.  All  land  belongs  to  Meact-Chassippi. 
He  wanders  over  it  where  he  wills.  Who  defies 
him  must  perish.  He  is  in  a  rage  and  has  come 
to  destroy  our  camp.  The  white  men  who  oppose 
him  must  help  us." 

Anthony  never  treated  any  Indian  messenger 
carelessly.  Under  every  flowery  speech  and 
childish  demand  was  some  vital  human  need. 
These  Chickasaws  were  leagued  with  the  rival 
English.  They  were  bringing  their  warlike 
camps  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  French  settle- 
ments. All  the  doings  of  the  colonists  and  every 
unfriendly  act  of  nature  they  construed  as  a  good 
reason  for  criticizing  or  attacking  the  posts. 

1 80 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

"It  is  easy  for  me  to  stop  the  Great  River's 
flow,"  replied  Anthony,  with  fine  sarcasm.  "I 
will  do  it  after  your  tribe  has  taken  all  your 
camps  back  into  the  hills  of  the  Chickasaw  coun- 
try where  the  Meact-Chassippi  can't  get  you. 
Tell  your  chiefs  to  move  away  to  their  own  high 
ground.  Then  will  the  inundation  cease." 

"We  cannot  return  with  a  message.  As  we 
came  the  lowlands  flooded  themselves  behind 
us." 

"  By  the  magic  of  my  coracle,  one  of  you  shall 
go  back  to  your  Chickasaw  sorcerers.  If  the 
camps  come  toward  the  Great  River  it  will 
drink  them  up.  If  they  go  back  into  the  hills 
the  waters  will  recede,"  was  Anthony's  ulti- 
matum. The  messenger  inverted  the  coracle 
upon  his  head  and  waded  away  to  launch  it.  The 
wily  medicine-men  who  sent  him  out  in  rising 
water,  with  the  surety  that  he  could  not  swim 
back,  would  use  his  disappearance  as  a  cause  of 
war  against  the  French.  In  the  coracle  he  would 
reappear  with  the  promise  of  falling  waters  and 
the  positive  command  to  retire  if  they  wished 
to  keep  dry. 

"That  outwits  our  Chickasaw  medicine-men 
for  the  present."  He  smiled  at  the  other  Chick- 
asaw, who  stood  ankle-deep  on  what  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  shore.  A  wide  river  stretched 
before  them.  Behind  them  was  the  flooded 
plain.  As  far  as  they  could  see  the  ground  was 
13  181 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

covered  with  rapidly  deepening  waves.  Some 
place  the  bank  had  burst  and  Meact-Chassippi, 
old  as  it  was,  frolicked  with  abandon. 

Once  it  had  lived  in  a  glacier  and  had  come 
down  over  the  plain,  chiseling  with  knives  of  ice 
a  gully  through  the  limestone.  Then  in  the 
middle  of  this  immensely  wide  stone  valley  it 
had  begun  to  make  itself  a  soft  bed  of  silt. 
From  fertile  hillsides  and  deep-loamed  prairies 
its  tributaries  carried  fine  particles  of  earth  in 
their  water  and  dropped  it  as  they  went  along 
the  channel  until  there  was  a  deposit  of  mud  in 
the  center  of  the  valley  much  higher  than  the 
surrounding  country.  The  old  river  has  made 
itself  a  bed  where  it  can  overlook  the  valley. 
There  it  still  turns  and  twists,  with  never- 
ending  restlessness.  All  the  banks  of  mud  are 
soft.  The  swiftly  flowing  stream  digs  now  here, 
now  there,  straightens  one  part  of  the  channel, 
makes  loops  in  another.  It  carries  away  whole 
acres  from  one  place  and,  dropping  them  in 
another,  changes  the  aspect  of  a  neighborhood 
every  season  in  the  year. 

As  mud  is  piled  upon  the  banks  rank  growth 
of  grass,  brush,  and  trees  springs  up  to  beautify 
and  hold  them.  Thus  they  grow  firmer  year  by 
year.  In  spring  freshets,  as  the  melting  ice  and 
heavy  rains  bring  down  high  volumes  of  water, 
the  southern  channels  are  cut  deeper  and  burrow 
under  the  banks,  dig  through  them  or  rise  up 

182 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

and  tumble  over  them  as  over  some  big  dam. 
Then  it  begins  all  over  again  to  make  a  new  bed 
for  itself  along  the  new  channel  thus  formed. 
The  old  bed  becomes  a  bayou.  Nothing  is 
certain  about  the  Great  River  except  the  un- 
certainty of  its  next  flood. 

Anthony  was  quivering  with  laughter;  it  was 
so  absurd  to  be  paddling  with  unwebbed  feet 
where  only  a  duck  belonged.  The  Indian 
showed  no  emotion  of  any  kind.  But  when  the 
jocose  white  man  and  the  apathetic  red  one 
questioned  what  to  do,  both  pairs  of  lips  formed 
the  one  word,  "  Cajeu." 

So  they  set  to  work  splashing  among  the 
canes,  breaking  them  off,  laying  them  flat 
like  a  mat,  and  weaving  them  together  with 
long  leaves  and  grasses.  One  of  these  little 
rafts  was  set  upon  another,  with  the  canes  of 
the  first  running  at  right  angles  to  canes  of 
the  other. 

On  this  frail  craft,  half  awash  under  their 
weight,  they  used  their  hands  for  oars  and  started 
for  New  Orleans.  Their  utter  helplessness,  like 
two  insects  on  a  floating  leaf,  did  not  in  the  least 
disturb  them.  They  were  doing  in  precarious 
simplicity  what  had  often  been  done  before. 
That  they  crossed  safely  was  not  a  wonder.  It 
was  a  custom.  The  first  bridge  over  the  Missis- 
sippi was  that  primitive  boat,  the  cajeu. 

In  New  Orleans  the  Chickasaw  went  to  the 
183 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

authorities  and  told  his  mission.  Anthony's 
report  of  a  broken  bank  and  the  rising  flood 
gave  much  concern.  The  whole  town,  in  a 
drenching  rain,  examined  the  puny  walls  of 
earth  wherewith  they  had  tried,  as  the  Chicka- 
saw  declared,  "to  imprison  that  mighty  giant, 
Meact-Chassippi." 

In  selecting  a  site  for  the  town  it  had  been 
necessary  to  find  some  spot  that  would  be  easy 
to  reach  by  the  ships  coming  through  the  Delta 
and  also  through  Lake  Pontchartrain.  The 
highest  place  was  taken,  but  even  that  could  not 
be  very  high  in  this  low  flood-plain. 

When  the  energetic  citizen  Dubreuil  took  a 
shovel  and  threw  up  this  levee,  and  then  dug  a 
ditch  inside  to  carry  away  the  drip,  he  did  a 
sensible  act.  The  water  was  standing  two  feet 
deep  in  the  houses  after  every  freshet.  Yellow 
fever  followed  all  inundations. 

The  colony's  engineer,  Sieur  La  Tour,  had 
ordered  each  householder  to  put  a  palisade 
around  his  premises  and  to  cut  a  ditch  outside. 
The  levee  was  made  higher  and  stronger.  The 
assistant  engineer,  young  Pauger,  was  proud  of 
the  system  of  defense. 

"Why  so  serious  a  face,  my  Tony?"  he  asked. 
"Are  we  not  protected  to  please  you?" 

Anthony  could  not  laugh.  "This  will  be  a 
very  wet  season." 

"How  do  you  know?" 
184 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

"By  the  way  the  sky  lowers,  the  manner  in 
which  the  beasts  take  to  the  uplands,  by  the 
odors  in  the  air,  and" — here  he  wagged  his  head 
sagely  like  an  oldest  inhabitant — "and  a  feeling 
in  my  bones!" 

Although  Pauger  was  a  hard-headed  mathe- 
matician, he  had  faith  in  such  uncanny  "signs" 
as  Anthony  picked  up  from  the  Indians  who 
lived  in  the  open.  He  always  acted  upon  them 
seriously.  "We  must  get  permission  to  go  up 
the  river  and  show  the  smaller  outposts  our 
manner  of  making  a  dike,"  he  said.  "Then  will 
they  be  secure  against  the  coming  freshet." 

As  the  pirogue,  which  was  a  tree-trunk 
hollowed  out  in  boat  shape,  was  being  paddled 
to  the  north,  Pauger  inquired:  "Why  do  you 
look  behind  us  so  often,  Tony?  Do  you  see  any 
one?" 

Anthony  shook  his  head. 

"  Do  you  hear  something?" 

Another  negative. 

"Do  you  almost  know  that  we  are  being 
followed?" 

Anthony  nodded.  Pauger  believed  a  pursuer 
was  on  their  trail  as  fully  as  he  did  that  a  flood 
was  coming. 

Like  little  fishes,  they  kept  near  shore  out  of 
the  strong  current.  Their  food  and  their  fire-pot 
were  in  the  pirogue,  and  they  slept  at  night 
curled  up  in  bow  or  stern  while  the  boat  was 

185 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

hidden  among  fallen  trunks  which  looked  ex- 
actly like  itself. 

They  could  not  discover  the  thing  which 
stalked  them — did  not  know  whether  it  was  man 
or  beast,  by  land  or  water. 

Still  it  came  on,  and  they  hid  from  it  and  fled 
before  it  as  any  other  explorer  would  have  done. 

The  few  posts  on  the  river  welcomed  them, 
listened  to  Pauger  with  respect.  They  agreed 
to  begin  at  once,  for  their  own  sakes,  to  set  up 
stockades  at  the  points  of  most  exposure,  to  heap 
them  with  dirt,  to  dig  a  moat,  and  to  prepare 
for  a  heavy  freshet. 

Several  times  the  pirogue  crossed  the  river, 
which  was  not  yet  too  dangerous.  The  French 
called  any  boat,  big  or  little,  a  "water-carriage." 
If  a  hydroplane  had  dropped  down  beside  these 
two  old-time  rowers  they  would  have  had  no 
other  name  for  even  so  startling  a  vision. 

The  "water-carriages"  of  the  Mississippi  have 
been  of  changing  styles.  The  resources  of  the 
country  determined  their  shape  and  power. 
American  pioneers  who  followed  the  French 
took  lumber  from  their  forest,  sawed  it  into 
planks  by  their  water-driven  mills,  spiked  and 
doweled  it  together,  and  built  big  flatboats, 
guided  by  poles,  on  which  they  loaded  the 
products  of  their  farms  and  floated  down  to  New 
Orleans  to  sell  the  goods,  boat  and  all.  Thou- 
sands of  flatboats  at  a  time  lined  the  wharves  of 

186 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

the  post.  At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century  steamboats,  at  first  small  and  clumsy, 
afterward  large  and  graceful,  were  going  up  and 
down  the  Great  River,  carrying  undreamed-of 
tonnage  and  housing  passengers  in  luxury  as 
soft  as  the  palaces  of  France. 

Anthony  and  Pauger  would  not  have  believed 
a  word  of  any  story  which  foretold  a  steamboat 
or  a  hydroplane,  yet  they  had  absolute  faith  in 
the  enemy  prowling  unseen. 

At  Fort  Chartres  they  found  the  garrison 
already  alarmed.  An  eddy  of  the  rising  water 
was  beginning  to  eat  away  the  peninsula  which 
stood  between  the  fort  and  the  Mississippi.  No 
engineer  with  definite  plans  for  spiles,  stone 
barriers,  and  dikes  ever  found  more  energetic 
helpers  than  Pauger  in  the  folks  on  the  Illinois. 

Each  day  they  labored  on  the  levee.  Every 
night  some  untoward  accident  happened  to  delay 
it.  Tools  were  lost.  Openings  grew  larger.  The 
best  logs  rolled  to  the  brink  and  floated  away. 

Said  an  Illinois  chief  in  secret  to  Anthony: 
"The  manitou  of  the  waters  is  against  us.  He 
does  not  like  to  be  turned  from  the  path  of  his 
desire." 

Like  a  flash  Anthony  saw  the  cause  of  their 
troubles.  It  was  the  Chickasaw!  He  had 
followed  them  from  New  Orleans.  He  was  doing 
the  damage;  he  was  spreading  dissension.  That 
his  meddling  might  drown  the  whole  Illinois 

187 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

nation  did  not  deter  him  if  he  could  thereby 
destroy  the  fort  and  its  white  men  to  propitiate 
his  manitou. 

"We  must  set  double  guards  to-night.  We  will 
both  watch,"  Anthony  said  to  Pauger  as  he  told 
his  news.  "The  cut  by  the  eddy  is  forty  feet 
deep.  If  it  begins  to  undermine  the  mainland 
the  fort  itself  will  topple  in." 

In  the  early  hours,  while  the  sentinels  snored 
carelessly,  as  they  had  probably  done  every 
night,  a  dim  form — silent,  slow  as  a  wraith 
of  smoke,  drifted  along  the  center  of  the  stockade 
and  pried  and  pulled  and  sawed  away  at  the 
last  spile  set  like  a  keystone  to  the  arch  of  the 
barricade.  The  engineer,  with  dreadful  visions 
of  his  whole  levee  going  down,  ran  toward  the 
figure,  firing  his  pistol.  Anthony  called,  rousing 
the  garrison  to  stop  the  fatal  leak  which  must 
follow  such  a  break. 

The  bullet  missed  the  Indian.  It  so  startled 
him  that  he  lost  his  balance.  He  fell  straight 
into  the  gap  his  own  fanatic  hands  had  made. 
With  his  body  head  downward  in  the  mud  he 
stopped  the  gap.  Earth  closed  round  him,  the 
spiles  settled,  his  bones  formed  the  cap  of  the 
arch — the  levee  held. 

Poor  Chickasaw!  Only  one  of  many  victims 
to  the  tyranny  of  the  Great  River,  so  bountiful, 
so  mysterious,  and  so  awe-inspiring! 

When  Anthony  and  the  engineer  had  made 

188 


THE   TWO    MEN    CLUNG   DESPERATELY    TO    THE    BRANCHES   THEY 
HAPPENED  TO   BE   ON   AND  WENT   DOWN-STREAM   WITH   IT 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

sure  that  the  level  was  not  injured  they  did  a 
foolish  thing.  Going  'way  down  to  the  Missis- 
sippi bank,  they  climbed  a  giant  gnarled  oak 
to  view  the  flood  now  sweeping  on  in  fearsome 
grandeur. 

The  tree,  long  undermined,  chose  this  hour 
to  fall.  The  oak — roots,  earth,  trunk,  branches, 
all — dropped  into  the  stream  and  whirled  away. 
The  two  men  clung  desperately  to  the  branches 
they  happened  to  be  on  and  went  down-stream 
with  it. 

The  heavy  roots,  like  the  stone  tip  of  an 
arrow,  went  first.  The  boughs  floated  with  their 
lightest  side  up.  In  them  rode  the  two  ex- 
plorers with  the  speed  of  an  express  train. 

They  crept  together  as  full  of  terror  as  two 
children  might  have  been.  They  wedged  them- 
selves in  secure  nests  among  the  stout  old  limbs. 
Exhausted,  one  watched  while  the  other  slept. 
Hungry,  they  chewed  the  leaf -buds.  In  the  most 
dangerous  of  all  water-carriages  they  bridged 
the  stream  from  side  to  side,  yet  dared  not  try 
to  get  ashore. 

From  a  crumbling  hill  a  panther  leaped  upon 
their  wildly  hurrying  craft  and  crouched  against 
the  trunk,  mewing  piteously.  Afraid  of  the 
men,  of  the  flood,  and  of  the  rocking  tree,  it 
dared  not  move  to  attack  or  defense. 

The  merciless  waves  at  last  threw  them  into  a 
bayou  against  a  turn  of  a  bank  where  other 

189 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

debris  was  plastered,  spread  out  like  fans  against 
the  bluff. 

Why  is  one  man  superior  to  his  fellows?  Why 
should  Pauger,  marooned  in  a  brush-heap  on  a 
flooded  river,  tired  and  wet  and  hungry  as  he 
was,  notice  that  the  running  water  was  dammed 
by  the  closely  interlaced  branches  of  fallen  trees 
on  either  side  of  its  channel? 

They  prevented  its  spread;  so  it  began  to  dig 
for  itself  a  deeper  and  deeper  channel  in  the  less 
resisting  mud  of  the  bottom.  "If  we  were  to 
plait  branches  with  small  limbs  and  strengthen 
such  mats  with  heavy  posts  against  the  shores 
of  the  Delta  to  keep  the  river  from  spreading, 
then  by  its  own  force  would  it  dig  a  deeper 
channel  for  itself  as  it  goes  to  the  sea  just  as  this 
stream  is  doing.  Such  a  device  of  branches  would 
keep  open  the  ship  canal  to  the  Gulf."  This 
observation  of  the  engineer  Pauger  was  the  be- 
ginning of  the  idea  of  those  jetties  which  now 
clear  the  water  path  to  the  sea. 

There  was  a  boy  of  French  extraction  with  the 
mind  and  spirit  of  the  early  explorers  who 
chanced  to  be  born  in  our  own  times.  His  name 
was  James  Buchanan  Eads.  He  had  the  title 
of  captain.  Pauger 's  first  hazy  inspiration  of  the 
jetties  Eads  perfected  and  put  into  practical 
working  use  at  the  mouth  of  the  Great  River. 

He  improved  all  the  old  systems  of  levees. 

190 


BRIDGES  OF  BOATS 

During  the  Civil  War,  the  President  of  the 
United  States  appealed  to  Eads  to  aid  the  navy. 
In  response  to  the  country's  need  he  invented  the 
gunboat,  forerunner  of  armed  cruisers;  built 
several  in  an  incredibly  short  time,  and  sent  them 
to  thunder  at  the  forts  of  Vicksburg  and  turn  the 
tide  of  battle  in  favor  of  the  Union. 

He  was  a  builder.  Caissons,  those  large  water- 
tight boxes  within  which  work  is  done  under 
water,  were  his  invention.  They  made  possible 
the  construction  of  that  long  bridge,  a  triumph 
of  engineering  skill,  which  crosses  the  Mississippi 
at  St.  Louis  and  spans  the  years  from  our  day 
to  that  hour  of  the  flood  when  Anthony  went 
from  east  to  west  on  a  floating  tree. 

Pauger  was  fainting  under  the  strain  of  their 
exposed  position.  To  encourage  him  Anthony 
said,  "The  post  of  Point  Arkansas  is  just  below 
here."  Filling  his  cupped  hands  with  water,  he 
sent  up  shower  after  shower  of  mimic  rain 
between  them  and  the  miserable,  cowering 
beast.  "Pretty  pussy!  Pretty  pussy!  Now— 
scat!"  She  backed  away  from  the  spattering 
water  which  all  cats  hate.  As  she  crawled  up  the 
tangled  roots  she  spied  some  patches  of  dry 
ground.  In  a  tawny  streak  she  leaped  the  chasm 
from  the  dripping  tree  to  the  knobs  ahead,  and 
disappeared. 

Then  Anthony,  quite  as  a  part  of  his  day's 
work,  stretched  his  half -unconscious  companion 

191 


STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  RIVER 

on  a  spreading  limb,  detached  it,  and,  abandon- 
ing the  tree,  swam  down  the  bayou,  pulling  the 
precious  load  after  him  until  he  found  a  landing- 
place. 

He  was  weak.  The  heavy  water  nearly  over- 
came him.  The  landing  was  difficult,  his 
companion  was  a  dead  weight.  Several  times  on 
the  point  of  sinking,  he  did  not  give  up,  but  made 
the  shore  by  supreme  efforts.  Taking  Pauger 
on  his  back,  he  started  for  the  post.  The 
garrison  saw  him  and  came  running  out  with 
welcoming  shouts. 

The  sun  was  bright,  the  air  clear,  the  whole 
happy  world  looked  good  to  Anthony.  He  had 
taken  part  in  great  events  and  had  seen  many 
noble  men  whom  two  nations  remember  with 
gratitude.  He  little  dreamed  that  in  all  the 
history  of  the  Great  River  there  were  few  ex- 
plorers more  heroic  than  he  had  been  that  day. 


AFTERWORD 

AS  the  boys  of  bygone  days  grew  to  be  men  they 
/~Y  handed  down  to  other  lads  in  the  stories  of 
their  adventures  the  history  of  the  events  which 
had  happened  to  them  and  the  things  they  had 
learned  from  experience. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  knowledge  thus  accumu- 
lated and  given  to  us  by  many  past  generations 
the  young  Americans  of  these  times  would  still 
be  running  about  naked,  fighting  with  sharp 
stones,  and  eating  one  another  with  the  appetite 
and  manners  of  the  first  savages. 

When  the  United  States  bought  the  country 
called  Louisiana  she  acquired  much  more  than 
the  land;  she  received  also  the  recorded  experi- 
ments and  the  results  of  the  hard  work  of  the 
French  for  more  than  a  hundred  years. 

Their  successes  and  their  failures,  their  ro- 
mantic struggles,  their  dauntless  spirit,  their 
ideals  of  fair  play,  were  all  a  part  of  the  same 
inheritance. 

Wherever  a  French  explorer  set  his  wander- 
193 


AFTERWORD 

ing  feet  there  has  since  followed  an  American 
business  man  to  develop  the  fabulous  wealth 
of  those  first  discoveries. 

The  iron  deposits,  north  of  the  sources  of  the 
Great  River,  where  the  fur  traders  wandered, 
when  smelted  by  the  coal  further  south,  have 
yielded  the  richest  ores  of  the  world.  Lead-  and 
zinc-  and  copper-mines  have  done  the  same. 

Wheat-fields  in  the  Red  River  region  have  sent 
their  farmers  to  mill  at  St.  Anthony's  Falls  with 
the  heaviest  grist  ever  known. 

Water-power  has  sawed  the  lumber  of  count- 
less forests.  Prairies  have  pastured  as  many 
domestic  cattle  as  ever  were  fed  in  the  time  of 
migrating  buffalo  herds. 

Corn-  or  cane-  or  cotton-fields  border  the 
river  everywhere.  Orchards  flourish  in  many 
states. 

Each  region  has  its  own  city  which  it  supplies 
with  products  for  export  and  which  in  turn 
manufactures  vast  quantities  of  necessary  and 
luxurious  articles.  These  cities  from  source  to 
mouth  are  strung  like  precious  pearls  of  wampum 
on  the  glistening  thong  of  the  Great  River's 
length. 

Through  the  jetties  and  out  across  Lake 
Pontchartrain  now  go  the  loaded  ships  taking 
supplies  to  the  nation  who  first  planted  these 
shores  with  food  crops. 

The   semi-barbarous  red   tribes  which  once 

194 


AFTERWORD 

roamed  the  whole  valley,  quarreling  so  among 
themselves  that  they  were  few  in  number  and 
often  starving  and  ill  housed,  now  live  on  smaller 
areas,  cultivating  prosperous  farms.  They  are 
probably  more  numerous  than  they  were  when 
the  continent  was  discovered.  In  civilization 
they  grow  apace,  as  the  early  fathers  dreamed 
they  might. 

The  black  races,  brought  by  force  to  the 
Mississippi  Basin,  have  marched  from  savagery 
to  civilization  in  two  centuries.  They  have 
added  to  history  the  name  of  one  genius  world 
famous. 

In  an  Atlantic  harbor  of  the  United  States 
stands  the  Statue  of  Liberty,  given  by  France 
to  her  sister  Republic.  The  flame  of  her  torch 
glowing  like  the  spirit  of  the  first  explorers  is 
kept  forever  burning  to  guide  humanity  to 
Freedom! 


THE   END 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNTVMSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MR2019H 


REC'D  MID 


9 


flECT) 


Form  L9— 15m-10,'48(B1039) 444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  481  423    2 


